


Peter Parker Imagines

by peterrrparkour



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Peter Parker, Teen Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-06-25 14:52:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15643014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterrrparkour/pseuds/peterrrparkour
Summary: first 6 parts: series "like I do"~rest are imagines, either one or two parts with peter parker :)(either gender neutral or x fem reader, starting a new collection for x male reader fics w/peter parker)





	1. Like I do part 1

You snatched your graded chemistry test from your teacher before anyone around you could sneak a peek. Trying to be casual, you slipped the paper underneath the lab table to examine it.

 

102%

 

You grinned with pride then remembered to wipe the smile off your face before someone noticed. It was too late. Your lab partner, Peter Parker, had seen your excitement and glanced down at your score scribbled at the top of the page in red pen. His face changed shape, but you sharply kicked him in the shin before he could bring any attention to you. His eyes scrunched up in confusion, and you quickly shifted away from him and covered up your test under your skirt so no one else could bear witness to it.

 

“Hey, Y/N, what did you get?” one of the members of your cheerleading squad swiveled around from the table in front of you to ask. You popped a bubble of chewy pink gum between your lips trying your best to act above the class.

 

“I got a 72%, no big deal, too busy getting ready for the game Friday to study something as lame as chemistry,” you lied easily. She nodded back in agreement flashing you a peek of her test.

 

Meanwhile, Peter wouldn’t stop staring, but he seemed to piece together the motives behind your actions. He scrawled something on a piece of notebook paper and slid it across the table for you to read.

 

Your fingers grazed over the top of his, causing your cheeks to flush a light shade of pink in response. Before you even read it, you locked eyes with him and marveled at the way they seemed to glimmer when you were near. For a fleeting moment, you let yourself get lost in each other; it was like you were alone together despite the loud classmates surrounding you.

 

You reminded yourself to snap out of it; you were dating the quarterback, and Peter was pretty low on the social ladder. You skimmed over his note, that read:

 

_You’ve gotten at least a 100% on every single test, why do you dumb yourself down for them?_

 

Your cheeks reddened at his observation; you didn’t know that he had seen your previous scores too. Embarrassed, you broke eye contact and picked up your pen to write back the response you had been rehearsing in case anyone ever found out your secret.  

 

_Being smart doesn’t exactly qualify you as cool if anything it makes you an outcast._

 

You handed the slip back to him and watched as he cringed in disappointment at your answer. Why did he even care? You felt annoyed that he even had to ask; of course, you couldn’t be popular _and_ ranked 1st in the class. They just didn’t mix well.

 

You expected him to write some comment back about embracing your true self, but instead, he tore the note in half. He handed the remnants to you underneath the table and squeezed your hand comfortingly as he passed them to you sending a shockwave of electricity through you.

 

Your jaw dropped a few inches, but he just flashed you a knowing smile to ease your worries. You realized there might be more to Peter Parker than what everyone else assumed.

 

* * *

 

As lunchtime rolled around, your shoulders tensed up as your boyfriend slid into the seat next to you casually slinging an arm over your body protectively. You hated with a passion how he made you feel like nothing more than just a trophy. Your relationship consisted of basically everything he wanted; you clinging to his side as his own personal cheerleader. It seemed unfair to you that he never returned the favor and supported you, but that’s the way it was with every girl in your squad. So, you kept your lips sealed on the subject.

 

Minutes passed by filled with the typical gossip, but you zoned out as your eyes fell on Peter sitting with Ned and Michelle. Maybe, it was a little depressing that it was just the three of them at one long table, but at least, they looked content, unlike you. They all knew each other for who they really were; among your friends, you don’t think a single one knew what you actually were like.

 

You felt your boyfriend's hand clenched tightly on your shoulder, and you remembered to pretend to act interested in the conversation. However, he had already seen where you were staring, and his fragile masculinity required him to do something about it. He abruptly stood up, and you tried to pull him back down; he tossed your hand off of him like it was nothing and headed in Peter’s direction. You wanted to stand up and scream at him to stop, but you simply shrunk down further into your seat.

 

It was like the whole cafeteria silenced itself to turn and watch what the star quarterback wanted from quiet, shy Peter Parker. He reached Peter’s table and slammed a fist down hard onto it sending shivers down your spine. You tried to shift your gaze, but your eyes were glued to his movements; you watched in horror as he stole Peter’s milk and slowly poured it on his head. The milk dribbled down onto his shirt. Your boyfriend began to strut away but not before humiliating him even more.

 

“Give it up, everybody, for penis Parker!” he howled, and with that everyone erupted in laughter, except you, Peter, and his friends. He kept his eyes trained to the floor as he slung his backpack over his shoulders and made a beeline for the exit.

 

You silently observed the kids around you all praising your boyfriend as if he were a god for his actions, but you couldn’t just sit and watch helplessly anymore. Before you even knew where you were going, you ran after Peter and followed him into the boys’ bathroom.

 

“Uh, Y/N, what are you doing in here?” Peter was obviously afraid to meet your eyes, but this only encouraged you, even more, to step closer to him. Ignoring his comment, you tugged at the bottom of his shirt motioning for him to take it off. His eyes widened in surprise, but he complied.

 

His breaths were ragged, and you felt each one hot on your cheek as he stood in front of you, exposed. You snatched his shirt and moved to lock the bathroom door then turned on the sink to work on scrubbing out the milk stains.

 

“He’s not that bad of a guy, you know. Everyone just feels pressured to fit in, so they hide who they really are under a thick skin pretending to be invincible. I’m sorry that he did that to you, but it’s just his way of staying tough and on top,” you tried to explain, as you pulled out a paper towel to dab the shirt dry. Peter stepped so close that he was right behind you, and you tried to stop your knees from buckling at his proximity to you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, but not possessively, more of in a kind down-to-earth way. You locked eyes with him in the mirror a few feet in front of you waiting for him to reply.

 

“You shouldn’t have to apologize for him, and I don’t care about fitting in; I just want to be me even if no one wants that,” Peter answered. Heat radiated from his hands still resting on your body, and he turned you around so that you were facing him. Blushing, you averted your gaze only to gape in awe at the toned muscles popping out from his abdomen. An awkward pause filled the space between you, so you re-focused your attention to his pleading, soft eyes looking on you with concern.

 

“You shouldn’t care either,” he finished, taking the shirt from your grasp. He pulled it over the top of his head, and you tried to hide your disappointment and truly take in what he was telling you.

 

“I-I’m scared, Peter…” you whispered your deepest confession. Peter’s fingers brushed back a stray hair that fell loosely down your neck, and he leaned in closer. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead in a soothing manner, and you relaxed into the calming effect his touch had on you.

 

“Well, maybe, if they don’t know who you really are, you shouldn’t be friends with them,” he suggested with such meaning you almost believed him for a second.

 

You blinked rapidly shoving yourself away from him as you released a deep breath.

 

“Uh, it’s fine, no friends are perfect all the time but thanks anyway. Sorry about your shirt, Peter. I’ll see you in chem!” you unexpectedly changed the pace of the conversation. He nodded back, a little stunned, and you spun around on your heels, flung open the door, and sprinted down the hallway. You checked to make sure the coast was clear and collapsed to the floor beneath your feet. It felt like you were being tugged in two completely opposite directions, and you had to choose soon who to pick.

 

With your friends, you might be lonely, but at least you were safe and looked up to. If you chose the path Peter was offering you, there was no predicting the future.

 

If you didn’t choose soon, you’d be forever stuck between two conflicting worlds.

 

Time was running out.


	2. Like I do part 2

Peter kept his eyes glued to the floor walking into chemistry class amidst audible snickers and harsh whispers of the nickname he absolutely loathed: “penis parker.” He plopped his books onto the lab table with a loud smack, breaking your concentration on reading the experiment instructions. He refused to meet your eyes, sending a trickle of worry through you. You wanted more than anything to pull him into a consoling hug and tell him everyone else was just immature and not on his level of intelligence. The words seemed to get caught in a trap in your throat and you simply kept staring until he caved in and met your concerned eyes.

“Sup,” he casually greeted you. You felt a pang of sadness that he wasn’t acting like how he usually did. Where was the boy in the bathroom who insisted he didn’t care what others thought of him?

You nodded a hello back to him and shoved the checklist of materials across the space between you, the space that felt like an entire ocean separating you. His eyes skimmed the paper, not even really checking it over, and he pushed the paper aside. You couldn’t just sit and watch him tear himself to pieces over a stupid nickname.

“Wanna come to a party tomorrow night? You could bring Ned and Michelle too!” you suggested, excitement growing the more you thought about it. You hated the weekly parties with a passion; all the fake smiling by the end of the night was exhausting. At least if Peter was there your smiles wouldn’t be fake.

“That doesn’t sound like a good idea with everything going on,” he shut down your idea before you could even elaborate. Peter secretly always wondered what went on at the parties he never was invited too, and he was slightly intrigued.

“Come on, Peter! They are kind of stupid, but if you hate it, we can all leave and go somewhere else,” you continued to press. His head jerked upward at the mention of leaving with you, and you hoped that would do the trick.

“Well, if you promise we can leave whenever, then I guess…” he submitted under the pressure. You squeaked in eagerness, reaching across the ocean of space to grab onto his hand. You looked down in surprise once you felt how shaky and sweaty his palms were. But, it was kind of cute to you how nervous he was at your touch, and your cheeks flushed a soft pink.

At the sound of the teacher’s voice, you snapped your hand back to rest on your thigh, feeling a little embarrassed at your actions. After a few seconds, you snuck a peek at Peter, only to find him already gaping at you in admiration. He tried to pretend he was scrutinizing the periodic table plastered on the wall behind you, but you smiled at his poor attempt to cover it up. Peter seemed like the type of guy to carry a deep secret, only to accidentally reveal it in a moment of weakness. You relaxed at the thought, knowing that if he was keeping something from you, it wouldn’t be long until he let it slip.

 

* * *

The next night, you fiddled with the light pink skirt you wore, nervously anticipating Peter’s arrival along with Ned and Michelle. Music boomed through the massive speakers, which at the moment you were thankful for, so that you didn’t have to force yourself into some drama-filled conversation with your squad. Guys swarmed around like bees, the girls the honey. It appalled you that they seriously never had anything on their minds but the pointless chase. It was like looking upon an army of clones, kind of sickening to observe from the outside looking in.

A slow creak from the door opening snapped you out of the haze you had fell into. Peter stepped in as quietly as possible, trying not to draw any attention to himself. He made a simple pair of jeans and a nerdy t-shirt look amazing. Ned and Michelle followed suit behind him as he attempted to creep inside unnoticed.

A wide smile erupted on his face when his eyes fell on you, and you bit your bottom lip to keep you from obnoxiously grinning at his entranced expression. Seconds ticked by and you still hadn’t broken eye contact; the rest of the room faded away into grey and Peter was in screaming color. You shuffled toward him, skittish yet enchanted by his mesmerizing, soft brown eyes. A wave of comfort propelled you forward, and all you wanted was to leave the tedious party and go anywhere else with him.

“Who invited  _them_?” sneers from others seeped into your consciousness and you froze in fear along with Peter. Before you could think of an acceptable response, you cleared up the situation.

“I did.”

Heads swiveled to stare at you in shock and annoyance at your decision. No one spoke, waiting for you to explain, but your thoughts ran blank. In your head, you said “because I like them.” But those weren’t the words that spilled from your quaking lips.

“What?” you questioned, as if you didn’t understand what the big deal was. To make matters worse, your boyfriend, Luke, stepped right in between you and Peter.

“Hey  _buddies_ , I think you have the wrong address,” Luke smiled contemptuously at the three frightened group of friends. He snatched a complex-looking book from Michelle’s hands and tossed it behind his back. Usually Michelle sarcastically laughed at the other kids in her school, but now she had nothing to say and that pushed you over the edge.

“Luke, stop,” you managed to utter, much quieter than you wanted to say it. He turned around to face you, and took a few gigantic strides until his six-foot-three frame stood towering over you.

“What was that y/n?” he tested, and you knew it was a warning, not meant to be answered. You looked right through him and saw Peter’s conflicted face. He wanted to stand up for you, but he also knew he held no power over your boyfriend; whatever was going to happen, you had to be the one to make it happen.

“I said, what was that?” he repeated after a moment of silence from you. Your eyes couldn’t help but grow watery and your chin shook as you tried to appear strong.

“I just… can’t you be a little nicer?” you pleaded, and cursed yourself inwardly for sounding so pathetic and meager. That menacing grin spread across his lips again, and he paced over to Ned this time. He removed Ned’s hat and balled it up and pretended it was a basketball as he threw it into the trash can a few feet away.

“What a cool hat, _Ned_!” he teased. “But you should probably leave it in the trash, it belongs there,” he paused before saying the next insult. “Just. Like. All. Of. You,” he emphasized each word separately as he gave all of them a shove backward in the direction of the door.

At this point, everyone, including Peter and his friends, were staring at you, expecting a response. Your legs felt like they were stuck to the floor and you didn’t budge; this was acceptable to your friends, but not to Peter. He flashed you a look of disbelief and hurt before he ran out the door with his two best friends. You couldn’t just let him leave like that, so you hurriedly followed him outside.

“Peter, wait!” you called out, desperation clear as day in your tone. He stopped in his tracks, and angrily pivoted around to face you.

“Wait for what? For you to make more empty promises and drag me to parties I didn’t even want to go to in the first place!” he snapped in retaliation. You moved beside him and assuredly calmed him down by placing a hand on his tense shoulder.

“I’m leaving with you!” you put him at ease and the anger fled his body.

“Really?” he murmured, beyond thrilled at your statement. You didn’t have another minute to spare, so you clutched onto his hand and started to steer him away from the party. A voice you had started to hate screamed after you.

“HEY! WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING?” Luke bellowed from the porch, his possy filling out the space around him. Peter gave your hand in his a gentle squeeze of encouragement, reminding you he was always going to be right by your side. Still holding onto him you stepped forward to meet him.

“I’m hanging out with my friends,” you stated simply, as if his question was irrelevant and useless. His eye twitched in irritation, probably surprised you had the guts to talk to him like that.

“No, you’re not,” he dared, wanting you to ask him why not.

“And what’s stopping me?” you stood your ground. It was strange, it felt like all your courage and bravery stemmed from Peter, as if he was the one doing all the talking. Luke motioned to all the people surrounding them, practically the whole school anticipating your next move.

“It’s us, or them.”

You felt dizzy and weak, like a tiny ant among giants, and if you said the wrong thing all of their feet would come crashing down on top of you. If you left with Peter, you would be nothing. Peter tugged on your arm, indicating it was time to go with him. Your legs felt like a ton of bricks and you didn’t even budge under his tugs.

A tear cascaded down your cheeks, and you loosened your grip on his hand until you weren’t even holding it anymore. As soon as you released him, you felt all alone and frailer than ever. You met his worried eyes and mouthed only two words he didn’t want to hear: ‘I’m sorry.’

Luke visibly relaxed, yet still maintained his arrogance because he still held the strings to you like you were his puppet. His hands gripped your waist and he hoisted you on top of his shoulders as the crowd cheered for you.

For a fleeting moment, looking into the crowd of kids content with your commitment to them, you felt powerful and remembered the benefits to being the girl you pretended to be. You involuntarily smiled back at everyone, before you recalled Peter standing behind you.

You exchanged looks with him, and all his emotions hit you like a slap in the face.

Shock.

Outrage.

Heartache.

Pity.

_Acceptance._

The last one hurt the worst; he had realized your decision and came to terms with it. He wasn’t going to try to change your mind. He spun around on his heels and bolted away into the street, leaving you with a group of people, none of which made you feel like you did with Peter.

That’s when you came to a realization of your own:

_Peter had given up on you_


	3. Like I do pt. 3

You hesitated before stepping into chemistry class, not knowing what to expect behind the door. You were terrified that after the party incident your relationship with Peter was severed beyond repair. However, that wouldn’t stop you from doing everything you could to get him back again.

 

Striding in, your eyes fell on Peter, but he wasn’t sitting at your usual lab table. Confused, you looked to the teacher for an explanation.

 

“Oh, Y/N, you’ve been assigned a new lab partner,” she informed you casually, a pang of regret and hurt shot through you. You tried to catch his attention, but he was intent on avoiding your gaze as he scribbled ferociously into his notebook. He just made gaining his friendship again that much more difficult.

 

You spent the entire class playing dumb and not answering questions correctly because you were paired up with one of your friends. You could’ve sworn you heard Peter scoff when the teacher called on you and you pretended not to know the answer. Well, at least he could hear you, that was something.

 

After what felt like forever, the bell rang and Peter made a beeline for the door, but you shoved past others to pull up right behind him.

 

“Peter, please can we talk?” you insisted, tapping him on the shoulder. You tried to hold back your tears as he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. How much longer was he going to do this? Frustrated, you almost pushed him into the locker to get him to listen, but Michelle got there first. She grabbed a hold of your wrist extremely tight and pinned it to the locker behind you. Peter actually turned to see why you had stopped pestering him to hear you out.

 

“He doesn’t want to talk to you, okay? To be honest, neither does Ned or me, so just walk away and go back to your little friends, like we never existed. Shouldn’t be to hard, you’ve done it before,” Michelle snapped, releasing your hand and nodding to your friends approaching down the hallway. You looked over at Peter to see his reaction, and he quickly averted his gaze to the floor. If that’s really what they wanted, you couldn’t keep convincing them otherwise. Reluctantly, you approached Luke and his friends, cringing as he snaked his arm around your waist.

 

Being this close to him was suffocating, so much that you thought you were going to pass out right there in the hallway. You found Peter and pleaded with just your eyes for him to notice, to care. You wished he would pull you from Luke’s arms and wrap you up in his instead. For a moment, when he met your eyes, you thought you saw a flicker of forgiveness in them. But, then his eyes fell on Luke’s arm defensively holding you so tight you couldn’t breathe, and any hope of him forgiving you left him. He slammed his locker shut and took off, leaving you in tears and strangling just being close to the boy you once could tolerate. Not anymore.

 

If you could go back to that moment in the party, you would’ve never let go of Peter’s hand. There was absolutely nothing left to like about Luke, but now you lost Peter and his friends, and he was better than nobody at all. So you faked a laugh at another one of his stupid jokes, and pretended to seem excited about the homecoming dance that weekend. When in reality, the dance was the last way you wanted to spend the night.

 

Further down the hall, Ned comfortingly squeezed Peter’s shoulder in an attempt to cheer him up. Peter hung his head low, exhausted already with putting up a wall between you and him.

 

“It’s okay Peter, you probably couldn’t trust her with, you know, anyway,” Ned pointed out, and Peter flinched at the thought.

 

* * *

“Guys, do we really have to go to this?” Peter whined for the millionth time that night, dreading the dance with every bone in his body. Michelle paused from her reading to whack Peter on the head with her book, not saying anything in words. Peter rubbed his head and glared, looking to Ned to excuse him from homecoming.

 

“Yes, Peter! It’ll be fun, you never know what could happen,” Ned tried to get him to look on the bright side, but he was way beyond that. Yet, he agreed, thinking he could just suffer through one night for his friends.

 

When they got to the dance, Michelle shrunk into the shadows immediately, while Ned left to talk to some other kids from academic decathlon. Peter awkwardly stood at the punch table alone, and considered sneaking out while his friends were distracted. He looked to the entrance, ready to make a break for it, when his jaw dropped to the floor.

 

You shyly walked into the gym and marveled at the way it seemed to sparkle. Blue and gold streamers hung from every inch of the ceiling, and golden Christmas lights cast a shimmery glow all throughout the dance. Students crowded on the floor, yet clung to their groups; it was all so overwhelming walking in alone. You began to hate Luke even more for simply saying he would meet you inside as you scanned the mass of people for him. You felt a pair of eyes gaping at you, and were surprised to find it was Peter.

 

There was no hate or sadness in the way he looked at you, only appreciation. Blushing, you flashed him a smile and before you were aware of what you were doing, you headed toward him. Your long, sparkly white dress flowed with each step as your curls bounced behind you. His face remained unchanged, still in awe as if he had seen a ghost. You couldn’t get to him fast enough as you hurried down the staircase.

 

“Y/N, there you are!” Luke called out nonchalantly, grabbing your hand and pulling you into him without asking permission. You struggled to pull away as he led you deeper into the dance floor. Looking behind you, Peter was gone and you bit your lip to hold back the tears from falling. You always managed to find someway to ruin things with Peter, this time without even trying. Luke pressed his body up against yours, not leaving any space and he moved his hands too low for your comfort.

 

“What are you doing?” you hissed into his ear, trying to avoid drawing attention. He raised his eyebrows as if it was obvious enough to not have to explain.

 

“Preparing for what’s going to happen later tonight,” he smirked, evidently pleased with himself.

 

“And that is?” you continued to press, not getting what he was implying. He looked down at you, this time clearly shocked you were that oblivious to his motives.

 

“When we have sex,” he casually let the words slip from his lips, but nothing about it was casual to you. You forcefully drove both hands into his chest and thankfully he released his uncomfortable hold on your body. Anger poured out of him as he glared down at you, annoyed he even had to be having this conversation in the first place.

 

“The fuck is your problem? I’ve been waiting forever, you really can’t do this one thing for me after everything I’ve given you?” he sneered in an attempt to turn you into the villain. You probably could have just apologized, and maybe if you were that passive, agreed to his demands. But you had reached the peak of what you could take from him; you finally snapped in retaliation to his unbelievable arrogance.

 

“My problem? One thing? Are you  _fucking_  kidding me? I put you first all the time, and you never appreciate any of it! No, no, I’m not doing this anymore. And I’m definitely not having sex with  _you_ ,” the words spilled out from your lungs after swallowing them back for so long. The look on his face was worth it; pure horror was written across it, as if he never saw it coming.

 

“We’re done, enjoy having nobody to like you anymore,” he spat, still testing you. Luke was certain you would cave in under the weight of his threats, but you had another plan in mind.

 

Hearing those disgusting words come from him pushed you further and further away. You clenched your fists so roughly it left crescent-shaped cherry-colored marks from your fingernails digging into your palms. You released your fists and opened up your hand, not sparing another thought, you whipped it straight across his appalled face. His fingers trembled as they wavered over the growing pink mark, not believing what had just happened. You weren’t finished yet, though.

 

“Nobody is better than being with you! Oh, and by the way, I’ve been dumbing myself down to nurture your ego. I’m ranked first in the class,  _dumbass_ ,” you blurted out, not thinking he could appear anymore shocked, but he did. You turned and ran towards the exit, tripping over the lengthy train of your dress, before he could get in another word.

 

Tears stung in the corners of your eyes; with no one around you let them flow. You weren’t exactly sure why you were crying, because if anything you felt finally free. You rammed into the door and turned down an empty hallway, running blind due to your watery eyes. A body blocked your path and you almost fell backward but they grabbed onto you sturdily.

 

“Y/N, what happened?” Peter’s familiar, considerate voice exclaimed and you collapsed into him, a crying mess. He asked no more questions, instead he simply held you for what felt like hours until you gained enough control over your sobs to speak.

 

“I know you hate me but I thought you should know that I left him for real this time,” you cried, still clinging onto his dress shirt, feeling a little guilty for getting tears all over it. It wasn’t the first time his shirt was wrecked on your part.

 

“For real?” Peter sounded excited, yet cautious. He knew better than to open himself up to you after everything.

 

“He wanted to have sex and wouldn’t stay with me if I didn’t, so I left and called him a dumbass,” you spouted, not holding back any truth. Peter twirled a curly strand of your hair around his finger and looked upon you with pride, like this was what he had been waiting for since the day you became lab partners.

“I should’ve done this a long time ago,” Peter began, and you tilted your chin up to look into his peaceful eyes.

“Done wh–”

Peter’s lips crashed onto yours, sending your back smashing on the locker behind you. Kisses with Luke had been so forced and plain, no sparks. With Peter, it felt like you were struck by lightning. He wasn’t just on your lips; he was everywhere. You felt numb yet so alive, like your senses were dialed to a hundred and you’d never be the same afterward. Your hands gripped his collar and you pulled him as close as he could possibly get. He grabbed one of your hands from his neck and interlaced his fingers with yours, pressing it to the locker. Your grasp tightened on his hand, when something sticky shot up from his wrist. Peter automatically froze in fear, and you stopped as well.

 

“Peter, what was that…” you questioned warily, a little weirded out. He shuffled a few steps back and hid his hands behind his back.

 

“Uhhh nothing, what do you mean?” he attempted to cover up whatever he was hiding, but he was terrible at secret-keeping like you had predicted. You strided forward and reached behind his back, gripping onto his wrist. You pushed up his sleeve and revealed some strange contraption wrapped around them.

 

“Peter, what are these?” you urged him to be honest with you. His eyes twitched in response uncontrollably and he couldn’t speak he was so completely terrified. You slowly shifted your vision to the ceiling, gasping at the webs adhering to it. Everything started to click at once, and Peter watched with no control as you came to the realization of who he really was.

 

“You’re… that spider-guy from YouTube,” you stated, waiting for his confirmation. He gulped and gave you a slight nod as sweat trickled down from his forehead. Then the panic truly set in.

 

“Please, you can’t tell anybody, if Aunt May found out…” he gushed, taking no time to really breathe. You placed a finger to his lips, indicating his secret was safe with you. After all, Peter was your only friend left after tonight. You couldn’t help but smile at the way he accidentally revealed his identity, and he visibly relaxed at this.

 

“It’s a good thing you have me now, Pete. You may be terrible at hiding things, but I could’ve gone on hiding my true self forever if it weren’t for you,” you reassured him, easing his worries. You were right; he needed you, just like how you needed him.


	4. Like I do pt. 4

You slammed your lunch tray down to Peter’s table with a loud clang, his friends turned to see what was bothering you. You were taken aback by this, none of your old friends used to care if you were upset. Peter raised an eyebrow at you and supportively wrapped an arm around your waist, and you rested your head on his shoulder to get closer to him.

“They won’t even speak to me, or look at me! It’s like I don’t even exist to them! I’m probably going to have to quit cheerleading now,” you exclaimed, letting all your pent-up annoyances out in the open. Michelle was the first to respond.

“It’s because in their eyes we don’t exist,” she clarified, then shifted her focus back to her latest complex book within her grasp. Peter and Ned turned back to face you and they both nodded in agreement at her statement. You sighed in defeat and picked up your fork only to mash the disgusting cafeteria food into one messy blob on your tray.

“You know, maybe you could join Academic Decathlon instead of cheerleading! You’re a genius and could really help us out!” Peter suggested, quickly falling in love with his idea as was the rest of the table. Even Michelle peaked interest at this, considering she was the team captain. You blushed at his far-fetched compliment, and took his idea to heart.

“I mean, if it’s okay with you guys…” you flushed, inwardly thrilled to spend more time with Peter.  Their heads bobbed up and down and for a brief moment your day seemed to be turning around for the better.

“Y/N!” Ned shouted, sending adrenaline through your veins at his sudden outburst. You were about to ask what was the matter, but it was too late for that. You could sense somebody standing behind you and before you could turn around, a cool liquid dripped from your hair onto the table. Jaws dropped all around you like dominoes, and you moved to stand and face whomever poured the milk on you, but Peter held you back. Luke bent over to murmur into your ear, sending chills through you.

“We’re just getting started,” he sneered and your face reddened in anger. Peter couldn’t hold you back any longer, you whipped around and grabbed Luke by his collar and shoved him a few feet backward with as much force as you could muster. At first, you thought he would come back at you, but judging by the look on his face, he deemed himself the winner already. Luke brushed himself off and winked at you before making his way back to his table. You sat back down, fuming in rage, not just at Luke but with your friends as well.

“What the hell, guys? You’re just gonna let him get away with that? I expected more, especially from you, Peter,” you expressed your concerns heatedly. Peter deflected your stares, and fiddled with the food on his tray, ashamed.

“Fighting back only makes it worse, Y/N,” he tried to reason with you, but you didn’t listen.

“What?  _What?_ That makes no sense, Peter, you’re Spiderman! How can you take on the Vulture but cower behind your other identity when bullies like Luke freely do whatever they want?” you stormily whispered, so others wouldn’t pick up on his secret. Peter simply sighed and buried his face in his hands, still not making eye contact with you, which drove you insane. You pulled his hands apart so he had no choice but to look you in the eyes.

“You don’t get it, okay? You’re never going to get it!” he snapped, drawing in the attention of a few others at nearby tables. You stared at him in awe; you knew you weren’t anything close to a superhero, but if you were you definitely wouldn’t stand idly by while your friends got bullied. He had obviously said his true feelings, and the milk in your hair was growing sticky, so you picked up your tray in a huff and made an incensed exit, leaving Peter behind.

* * *

The bell rang throughout the halls, signalling the end of the school day, and you couldn’t wait to get out of there before Peter could catch you. That plan failed once you arrived at your locker, and he was there waiting for you eagerly.

“What do you want,” you spat, ignoring the pleading look in his eyes. His face sunk at this, obviously hurt that you wouldn’t even give him a chance to explain what he meant by his comment.

“Please, Y/N, I’m sorry for how I sounded at lunch, just give me time to explain what I meant by it!” he begged, and reached out to grab your wrist to keep you from leaving. You paused and turned your head to meet his gaze.

“Okay. Explain,” you wasted no time insisting he tell you the truth immediately. Peter anxiously scanned your surroundings and leaned in to speak in a hushed tone.

“I can’t here… Can I pick you up late tonight? I know the right place to talk about this,” he inquired, hoping you would agree to his plan. You exhaled and finally caved in, nodding at him. Peter grinned at this and had to hold himself back from pulling you into a tight hug. Instead, he awkwardly gave you a thumbs-up and shuffled backward toward the double doors, until he turned around and smacked his face into the glass door. You stifled a laugh and shifted your focus, pretending you hadn’t seen that to save him the embarrassment. You still didn’t understand how you hadn’t picked up on his secret the minute you were paired up together in chemistry.

* * *

You tapped your foot repeatedly, sitting on the edge of your bed, waiting for even just a text from Peter, but: nothing. You wanted to be mad but you felt more worried than anything. Ever since you found out he was Spiderman, you felt sick at the idea of him swinging around into danger. He was way to pure and innocent to be in that situation, but you understood that he felt like he had an obligation to Queens.

Minutes later, you heard a tapping at your window and you jumped over to it, sliding it up as Peter nearly fell into you. You stepped back so he could crawl in, and he pulled off his mask and whimpered at the rush of air that hit his bare skin.

“Hey,” was all he could think to say, and you glared at his foolishness. You could’ve picked a fight, but you were so over that, so you just pulled on a hoodie over your head to prepare for the chilly night.

“Where’s your car, that’s what we’re riding there, right?” you questioned suspiciously, confused as to why he was wearing his suit in the first place. He stared at you in shock and a slow smirk overtook his face.

“Uh, I guess we’re just riding me there,” he sputtered out, and froze at the way his sentence came out as you grinned back at him.

“Not like that! I just mean, like, I’ll take you there…” he rushed to clear up. You felt beyond nervous at the thought of clinging onto him; you’ve never even seen him in action. But, he motioned for you to take his hand as he stepped onto the fire escape lining your window. Once you were outside, you paused, not sure what to do next.

“Here, just wrap your arms around my shoulders,” he suggested, and you followed his command skittishly.

“Peter, are you sure you’ll be able to do this?” your voice wavered, taking into consideration your fear of heights. You already were so high up and it was striking fear into your heart. He gasped, as if to say ‘you really doubt my abilities?’ You rolled your eyes and tightened your grip on him as he flung his first webs to land on the adjacent building.

“Just close your eyes, okay?” he appeared concerned at your panic, so you breathed out slowly and did as he told you.

Then, he simply let go of his grip on the railing and you buried your face in his chest to cover up the screams threatening to escape your lips. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before or even imagined. It felt wild and untamed, yet also like Peter had everything in perfect control and knew what he was doing. Eventually you built up the courage to open up one eye, and the view was astounding. Webs flew out of his fingertips like he was a god, and his muscles contracted and relaxed all in one flawless motion. The only words you felt accurately described it was controlled chaos. Wind blew past your hair, blowing strands in every direction possible.

You didn’t fear the experience anymore; in fact, you felt powerful and just flying next to him was so freeing you began to understand why Peter wanted to keep it a secret. He didn’t want anybody regulating what he could do, but if he kept his abilities on the down low he would still be in control of himself.

It seemed to come to an end no sooner than it had started as Peter’s movements slowed and you landed smoothly on the rooftop of probably the highest building in Queens. You began to ask why this place, but Peter anticipated this and cradled your chin in his hand, tilting it up to look at the midnight sky. The sky was littered in silvery-white stars, each twinkling on it’s own if you looked closely. The crescent moon seemed to pull it all together, like the star of the show. Peter grinned at the sweet smile on your lips as the dim light reflected off your cheeks. He then pulled you down to sit with his arms around you near the edge of the building. A momentary silence filled the space between you, as you awaited him to say what he needed to.

“Mr. Stark offered me a spot with the Avengers, but I turned it down,” he hurried to admit before he changed his mind. Your eyes grew wide at his confession, and you nodded for him to continue.

“I thought I could just be a… friendly neighbourhood Spiderman, you know, helping out the little guy on the street. But now, things have changed, and I can’t exactly explain how. All I know is that I have this intense feeling in my gut, like life as we know it is going to be destroyed in one snap of the fingers,” Peter attempted to explain, but his voice grew shaky and a tear streamed down his cheek as he tried to hold it in. You reached out to squeeze his hand, letting him know it was okay to feel and okay to express his deepest emotions.

“What do you mean by that?” you struggled to understand his logic. He pointed up at the sky, as if he saw something that you couldn’t.

“It feels so terrible, so awful, Y/N. It’s like I can hear these voices screaming out for me to do something, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. So I’m sorry that I’m not really worrying about someone as petty and small as Luke, because in the end I have the weight of the entire universe on my shoulders,” he apologized, and it all finally clicked for you. You pushed his back to rest on the floor and cuddled into him, not saying anything. Peter was going through something unimaginably painful, and the only thing you could do to make it better was hold him close in your arms. You wished you could share the weight of his struggles with him, even just a little, to bring him some relief.

Peter closed his eyes and another vision interrupted his consciousness, and he struggled to breathe normally out of pure fear. It’s like his spidey senses weren’t just tingling– they were electrifying him, sending agony through every bone in his body. Tears cascaded down his cheeks at this point as his eyes squeezed shut even tighter than before. There was this darkness, but it was focused around one… thing. He couldn’t exactly call it a man, because it felt like so much more than that, like an all-powerful god. Not a god like Thor, with the best intentions in mind, but the exact opposite. Peter could feel his every thought, he could see his plans for the universe and it took everything in him not to scream at the top of his lungs. Then the next thing he felt was billions of voices silenced, like they just stopped existing. Peter felt it all, every single loss, and he took the blame for every cry. He didn’t know what to do; why wasn’t anyone telling him what to  _do_? Whatever it was, he would do it. He couldn’t just stare up at the stars and wait for whatever was to come.

“PETER!” your voice finally broke into his thoughts as he gasped for air and stood up abruptly. He gripped your hand so extremely tight you lost all blood circulation to it. He turned to meet your eyes and you saw all his emotions clear as day just by one look.

“I can’t save them, I can’t save anybody…” he fell apart, collapsing onto your body and you held him up for the both of you. You stroked his hair, toying with each fluffy strand between your fingers, in an attempt to calm down his rapidly beating heart.

“I know, I’m sorry, Peter. Please, look up at me,” you tilted his head to meet your eyes so you could clearly get your point across. You wiped away his damp cheeks with the sleeve of your cotton hoodie and you cupped his face in your hands.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Peter, because _you saved me_.”


	5. Like I do pt. 5

You sighed at the long line in front of you; how long did it really have to take for people to board a bus? You glanced over to your right, only to see Peter anxiously tapping the side of his leg, constantly turning his head in every direction as if he was waiting for something. You reached out to grab onto his hand, and that seemed to bring him back down to earth.

“Hey, you can talk to me, you know?” you reassured him, hoping he would reveal whatever was bothering him. Peter bit back his bottom lip, checking to see who was nearby before he leaned in closer to whisper into your ear.

“It’s almost here, I can feel it…” he confirmed, his senses out of control. His heart beat faster than he even thought possible, his whole body was shaking, and he couldn’t even focus his eyes on you for more than half a second. It made you feel so helpless; this thing was eating away at Peter and there was nothing you could do except hold his hand and watch.

You hid your expression from him, a knot was building up in your throat and if you spoke it would break the seal, all the built-up tears would come pouring out with no stopping them. Hoping Peter was too distracted to notice, you released your grip on his hand and shuffled a few feet away from him, the closeness to him too much to handle. What you didn’t know was that Peter picked up on your every feeling, sometimes a blessing, sometimes a curse. He loved sensing your happiness whenever you read a note he slipped to you behind the teacher’s back, or the way your heart beat fast whenever tests were handed back, always a slimmer of doubt present underneath the surface. Peter never had any doubts, though, he knew and respected your dedication.

The feelings he could sense that he tried to push away were almost too much to bear. The wave of fear and self-consciousness you felt whenever Luke strutted past, and the worst: when Peter himself was the one to make you cry. No matter how distracted he was, he could pick up on that from miles away. He rushed to your side, slipping his arm around your waist to remind you he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. You gradually lifted up your trembling chin to look up at him through watery eyes, feeling guilty that in his time of need you were the one crying. Peter pushed the sleeve of his flannel down further to cover up his palm, using it as a makeshift tissue to wipe away the tears falling down your cheeks.

“Nothing is going to tear us apart, okay? I’ll always be here, even when I’m not with you, I’m still thinking about you,” his words soothed your underlying fears as you buried your face in his chest, not in the slightest ashamed of showing him affection in front of your classmates. Choosing Peter was the best decision you ever made, no doubt about it. At this point, you couldn’t even remember how you got through the days without him by your side.

The line had slowly crept forward and you moved to step into the bus, Peter’s hand resting on your lower back as you climbed up the few stairs. You picked a spot in the middle, in front of Ned eagerly waving for you to join him. You rolled your eyes as Peter and Ned casually knocked their fists together, doing their ‘secret’ handshake for probably the millionth time. As soon as they finished, you motioned to Peter to do the handshake with you, eager to prove it wasn’t that difficult as they made it seem. After you aced it perfectly, Ned and Peter shared a look of horror and admiration as you smirked and slid deeper into the seat.

“I’m okay with you dating my best friend, but stealing our handshake is a hard no,” Ned teased, but you knew he was sincere, so you sighed and nodded, a pleased grin plastered on Ned’s face. You looked over to Peter, who looked like he had seen a ghost, and all the worries came back from before.

“Peter, what is it? What’s wrong?” you gushed, not even realizing you were clutching both of his hands for dear life. He blushed, easing your nerves, and he hurried to explain.

“No– it’s nothing, just… he said we were dating, and you didn’t correct him,” he flushed, afraid he was overthinking the situation. It dawned on you what Ned had said, you hadn’t even thought twice about it. You kind of just assumed you and Peter were together, your feelings for each other being as strong as they were.

“Oh… Well we basically are, right?” you asked, a little nervous, but you had faith in what you and Peter had together. It wasn’t helping that he didn’t seem to excited, he actually appeared quite the opposite.

“But… I never got to ask you out, I was going to make it really special,” his face fell, disappointment written all over him. You smiled, relieved, and inched closer to him so that your legs brushed against each other in the seat.

“Okay… so what if we’re just unofficially dating?” you suggested, trying to take the pressure off of him by ensuring your commitment. He bobbed his head up and down, not hesitating to throw his arms around you, pressing his chest against yours and wrapping you up in his warm body. Ned clapped from behind you, proud of his best friend, reminding you he was still there and listening. After a few seconds, you broke the hug, much to his dismay. You poked him in the middle of his chest, sending him back not even an inch.

“Come on, Peter, I have to finish my chem worksheet,” you explained, watching him pout as his pleading eyes bore into you. He rolled his eyes and finally let you reach down into your backpack underneath his feet. You dipped your head down as you struggled to concentrate amidst the loud, obnoxious hollers all throughout the bus, scribbling at the edge of the paper in your lap, trying to think clearly. Peter caught on to this, of course, and he pulled a couple strands of your hair that had fallen in front of your face back behind you. He gathered your hair in one hand and used the other to comfortingly rub your tense shoulders, taking away some of the frustration. You soon fell into a trance, as you often did with Peter. It was like you had no sense of time with him, he made everything else fade to grey in the background.

All of a sudden, Peter broke your concentration, swiveling his head to gape out the small, rectangular window adjacent to the seat. Goosebumps covered his forearms, tiny hairs sticking straight upright. You turned to see what had caught his eye, and your breath hitched at the sight of it. A massive, donut-shaped spaceship encompassed the sky, destroying everything in its path, right in the middle of the city. He pressed a hand to the glass, without thinking he started to slide open the window, ready to crawl out without even a goodbye. You yanked at the sleeve of his flannel, in shock at his readiness to head straight into danger, not even knowing what it was. He turned to meet your horrified gaze, and he placed both of his soft hands on your chin, cradling your head.

“I have to go help, this is it, Y/N. It’s here,” his words struck fear into your heart, a feeling of dread taking over you. Why did he have to go? Couldn’t he stay with you and let all the other heros take care of it? He was just a teenager still, and none of it was fair. But you didn’t want to hold him back from what he felt he had to do; that would be selfish and you weren’t about that.

You leaped into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck so tight he struggled to breathe. Ignoring the judgmental stares from those near you, you leaned in to him and crashed your lips into his desperately. You tried to bless him with luck, to install a magic spell that would keep him safe from danger, all with a kiss. Peter had to come back to you, if he didn’t come back…  _No._  You pushed the thought far, far away and focused on how sweet his lips tasted, how his hands traveled up and down your back. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to bottle up the moment for safe-keeping, so Peter would always be with you. He eventually broke the kiss, breathing deeply, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry… I have to go now,” he whispered, fear laced in every little word that escaped his shaking lips. Your chin quivered as you nodded slightly; it took everything in you to pull yourself off his lap. Peter looked back to Ned, who was equally afraid for his best friend. They performed their handshake again, this time more bittersweet than the last.

“Ned, I need you to cause a distraction,” Peter relied on him, his best friend forever, his guy in the chair. Ned nodded and tried to put on a brave face, turning to face the rest of the bus. You hadn’t let go of Peter’s hand yet, you couldn’t until you said what you needed to say. You felt the words on the tip of your tongue, but you feared they were too premature to say. Even though you felt them every minute of every day, you loved him.

Peter’s eyes ran wild, he could almost hear you saying the words, even though you hadn’t let them slip yet. His heart pounded in his chest, he craved those three words more than anything, he needed to hear you say them. To give him hope, a reason to fight that much harder to come back safely in your arms. He trained his thoughts around you, only thinking one word: _please._ Please say it, please, he wished in his mind.

Ned started screaming, pointing out the window, everyone turning to stare at the trauma, Peter had to go, he had to go right then. His eyes bore into you, waiting just a few seconds more, waiting for you to say those words. You opened up your mouth, but only a stuttery mess came out, not even decipherable. He couldn’t wait any longer, Peter quickly placed a peck on your lips and grabbed his backpack, diving out the window. You squeezed his hand before he whipped the mask over his face, and flung his webs in the direction of eminent danger. Within a few seconds, he disappeared from your vision. Peter was gone, and you hadn’t said the one thing you wanted to say more than anything.

* * *

Minutes faded into hours, until an entire day had passed. You were on edge every single second, just waiting for Peter to burst through the classroom door, murmuring something about losing another backpack. You missed his presence greatly, looking to your side in class and seeing nothing but an empty chair. The silence was deafening at lunch; Ned, Michelle, and you couldn’t speak. Nothing was the same without Peter. There was nothing to even say, all your thoughts were frantically thinking through every possible scenario of whatever Peter was doing at the moment. Whatever it was, wherever he was, you prayed he was safe, telling some corny joke to make the other Avengers crack a smile, or honestly just still breathing. That was all you could hope for.

* * *

Peter watched in horror as one by one, his team, the people he looked up to and aspired to be someday, faded to dust. They were just gone, one minute they were there, and now they just stopped existing. It was beyond cruel, it was evil.

The worst part of it all, was that Peter knew any minute he would be next to go. He saw the memories flash before his eyes. He saw your smile, the way you flowed with every step like an angel sent from heaven just to make his life a better place at homecoming, the way you could see him for who he really was.

Peter didn’t want to die; he wanted to stay. He had so much to live for, so much left he wanted to do. He had people who cared for him that he couldn’t just leave. Ned. Michelle. Aunt May. Mr. Stark. You.

He turned to face Tony, desperation in his eyes, hoping he knew how to stop this.

“I don’t- I don’t know what’s happening- I don’t…” Peter fell into Tony’s arms, clinging to him like he was his last chance at survival.

“I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, Mr. Stark, _please_ ,” Peter begged Tony with everything he had left in him. Stark could build anything, surely he could stop this, he could find a way to protect him. He repeated his cries, his voice cracking under the pressure, the unknown he was fast approaching. Peter crashed to the ground, Tony’s hands still holding onto him, trying to keep him alive. His hands that he used to design the very suit that stuck to Peter’s body, the suit he spent hours and hours perfecting, adding in every last trick to protect him.  _Why wasn’t it working?_

Peter’s gaze shifted back to look deeply into his idol’s terrified eyes. Peter felt it coming, he felt all of it, and he realized there was nothing anybody could do to save him. There was only one thing left to do: apologize. Maybe if he had listened to Y/N, if he had stayed on the bus and let someone else deal with Thanos, he wouldn’t be in this place. Or even if he had fell back to earth when Mr. Stark told him to go back home, a pang of guilt shot through him at this. But, he was going now, he had to let Tony know it wasn’t his fault.

“I’m  _sorry_ …” Peter’s voice was barely even a whisper.

He blinked back tears, trying to be strong. He just had to be strong, wherever he was going. Peter held onto that thought, repeating it over and over in his mind. Just be strong, Peter. Come on, Spiderman. The tingling sensation soon swept over his entire body, he turned his head away from Stark, embracing whatever was to come.

_Just be strong…_


	6. Like I do finale

_What?_

Your eyes scanned your surroundings, everyone acting completely… normal. Laughing, smiling, gossiping. Why were you in the cafeteria? You looked down, eyes lingering on the blue pleated cheerleading uniform barely covering your legs.

It didn’t make any sense. People had disappeared, had died. The world had been in utter chaos and confusion. Was it all a bad dream? Or were you dreaming now? You struggled to piece together all the information amidst your old friends obnoxiously shouting at each other.

Luke slid down in the seat next to you, and you just gaped at him in response. Why was everyone high-fiving him? Then one of their remarks seeped into your consciousness.

“Penis Parker, that’s a classic,” someone congratulated him, and it all came back into place. This felt so eerily familiar, because it had  _already happened._  Luke had poured milk on Peter, so that only meant…

You jumped up from the seat, heart beating completely out of control, but not before you felt a hand wrap around your wrist and pull you back into the table.

“And where are you going?” Luke interrogated you, which you had absolutely no time for. You clenched your hand into a tight fist and brought it down to his jaw, hard. Blood splattered out of his nose, as a stunned silence fell upon the cafeteria. His face turned up to stare at you ferociously, partly in confusion, but mostly in rage. You didn’t wait any longer for him to retaliate, there was somewhere much more important to be.

He had to be in there; if he wasn’t, there was no hope he’d ever come back. It’d be your worst nightmare, your previous world restored without Peter there for you to do it the right way. Your breath hitched as you paused before bursting through the door to the boys’ bathroom; you repeated to yourself over and over: _‘he had to be in there.’_

You pushed open the door with two hands, eyes closed, too afraid to open them, too afraid of what you’d see in front of you. Or not see.

“Hey.”

_Peter._

You flashed open your eyes, and they lit up at the boy shyly standing in front of you. Milk dripped from his brunette waves, he awkwardly clasped his hands together, as if he wasn’t sure you’d be happy to see him. If that’s what he thought, then he was so, incredibly wrong.

Your legs couldn’t move fast enough as you sprinted to him and leaped into his arms, sending him toppling backward a few feet, but you didn’t care. He was really there, flashing you his adorable smile, as if he never really left in the first place. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as your toes barely skimmed the floor, Peter twirled you in circles and the happiness you felt was surreal. It really was true that losing someone made your feelings that much stronger when they came back.

He delicately set you back down, but you wouldn’t let go of him, your arms still desperately clinging around his shoulders. Peter began to hurriedly explain everything that had happened, not taking any time to breathe.

“It was so genius, Mr.– I mean Dr. Strange, that’s his made up name by the way, sent the time stone into the future so when he gave it to Thanos–”

You tried to listen to him ramble, but you couldn’t hold yourself back from what you had dying to do since he disappeared from your vision on the bus. Your broke off his story by slamming your lips against his, he paused for only a second before kissing back, sending you through past memories of all the kisses you shared. None of them compared to this one in the slightest. Your hands trailed up to his hair, and you gently tugged on his curls; he leaned in so much that you were falling backward and his hands on your waist were the only thing stopping you from falling to the floor. You pushed back into him and leapt up, wrapping your legs around his body as he held you up with his hands on your lower back. Seconds, then minutes ticked by like this until you finally let go of him and returned to the floor, but still held on tight to his hand. You didn’t think you could ever bring yourself to fully let him go again.

“You’re not going to go back to Luke now that you have the chance, right?” Peter nervously asked, not meeting your eyes. You shoved him backward, appalled that he even needed to ask that after the moment you had just shared.

“Your such an idiot, Peter, I lov–” you cut yourself short before you could complete the sentence.

“You what?” Peter grinned, creeping forward until his chest was touching yours, and you could feel every one of his heartbeats as though they were your own. Your gaze fell to the floor, the words catching in your throat, until your remembered how badly you had wished you had told Peter the truth before he left.

“I love you, Peter Parker,” you confessed, the words spilling out that you had bit back on the bus. Peter had anticipated them, but he couldn’t contain his cheerfulness. He smiled so widely his facial muscles burned, but he couldn’t wipe it off his expression. Peter had never felt so content, so satisfied. You loved him, he really got the girl he had been pining after since the moment he saw you walk into chemistry class on the first day.   
  


A few seconds passed by, and Peter hadn’t returned the words. You anxiously looked back up at him, just waiting, as your thoughts raced to every possibility. What if he didn’t say it back? What if it was too premature? What if–

 

“Y/N, no one will ever love you _ **like I do**_.”


	7. Marry You

**It’s a beautiful night, we’re looking for something dumb to do. Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you.**

 

A sudden knock at your window interrupted your concentration, you tossed your book aside and couldn’t contain the smile erupting on your face. It could only mean one thing: Peter was outside; no one else could possibly scale the lengthy wall that led up to your bedroom. The second you pried open the window Peter came thumping in, knocking you down to the carpet landing with his body pressed tight to yours. He smiled adoringly down on you, that smile that eased all your nerves and made certain you never stayed mad at him for long.

 

“I have to ask you something!” Peter blurted out in a frenzy, short of breath as if he had flew from all the way across Queens to climb into your window. You squirmed underneath him, the weight of his body on top of yours beginning to grow uncomfortable.

 

“What the hell is it, Peter?” you urged him to get it out already, not understanding why this couldn’t wait until he saw you in school the next morning. He cleared his throat, ready to speak, but then a wave of worry struck his features and he paused. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief second, until he gained the courage to snap them open again, regaining focus on you.

 

 _“Marry me!”_ he spoke without a stutter or moment of hesitation. Although just two words, they seemed to carry the weight of the world as they hung awkwardly between you and him. It began to feel like you couldn’t breathe, his chest pressed so hard against yours that your lungs couldn’t fill up with air. Peter caught onto this, quickly scrambling off of you and pulling you up to stand by slipping his hands into yours. Judging by your horrified expression, he started to regret his rushed actions and wished he had put more thought into it.

 

“Peter, do you realize what you just asked me?” you finally found the words to express the thoughts bouncing off each other in your brain, too many to keep track of. Relieved you hadn’t outright declined his offer, he cracked his knuckles, preparing to win you over with his foolproof explanation.

 

“Of course! Just, hear me out, okay? I think your really, really perfect and I wouldn’t change a thing about you, even if I could. So I guess it just hit me, you know, why wait? I’m never going to find or look for anyone else because I found you, and you’re all I could ask for. I just really want to make you officially my, uh, wife…” Peter justified, shocking even himself with his last word. Wife… It wasn’t enough for him to call you his girlfriend anymore, it just seemed like not enough. He was the type of person who did things all the way, or not at all, and you knew this.

 

“We can’t just–”

 

He couldn’t let you say no, he physically couldn’t allow himself to hear those words escape your lips. Peter, although he was Spiderman, could have very fragile emotions at times, and it would break his spirit to hear you turn him down without at least thinking from his point of view. He needed to give you a reminder of your love for each other.

 

Peter cut off the rest of your sentence, his pupils dilating and heart pounding in his chest, as he snuck his hands to your hips and his lips against yours. Just like every single kiss you had shared in the past, a tingling sensation swept all the way through your body, ending at your fingertips that you dove through his curls. You momentarily forgot everything you were planning on saying, his slick move obviously working on his part. He pulled away, leaving you breathless, gently stroking your hair as he nervously awaited for you to hopefully change your mind.

 

You tried to tear your gaze away from his puppy dog eyes bearing into you, begging you without having to utter a word. Peter’s eyes always got to you, making you fall into his arms like your limbs were jelly. Calling his eyes simply brown was a major understatement, that’s not what you saw when you looked into them. You saw whirls of chocolate and caramel, warm and sweet that made you melt with just one goey look. So sweet like fresh baked chocolate chip cookies, falling apart in your hands, a guilty pleasure, irresistible. You fell in love over and over again with those eyes, and the fact that they were pleading with you gave you no other option.

 

“Okay…” you caved into his request.

 

“Okay?” Peter repeated, unsure if he heard you correctly, but you bobbed your head up and down.

 

He lit up with bliss, on cloud nine with you, picking you up and spinning in a circle, as if to symbolize your future with him. It was timeless, undying, meant to last and it just made perfect sense to not wait any longer. Peter set you back down to the ground, feeling dizzy as realization after realization struck you.

 

“Peter, how do we do this? Do we tell anybody? We don’t even have anything! A dress, a ring, a church, maybe we shouldn’t–” you rambled on, doubts arising in your mind as you second guessed yourself. Peter didn’t share the same concerns as you.

 

“I think you look beautiful just the way you are,” he praised you, motioning to the black leggings and baggy t-shirt hugging your body. You had to stifle a laugh, sure he wasn’t actually serious, until you saw the sincerity written across his face.

 

“But what about all the other stuff?” you questioned, not knowing how it would all come together, if it would at all. He flourished a radiant smile, so bright you almost believed he stole the sun and all the stars from the sky.

 

“What about it?” he deflected the question, and you let go of all your tension, putting all your trust in him as you took his hand. He gave your palm a little squeeze, ensuring he had it all under control, even though he really didn’t have anything close to a plan. But that was what made it more thrilling.

* * *

 

Not even an hour later, you sat in Peter’s lap, giggling and bubbly like nothing you had ever experienced before. He rocked you back and forth, unable to take his eyes off of you as strands of your hair fell from your braid over his face, eliciting an even bigger grin from his lips. Your grip loosened on the bouquet of flowers in your hands as he pulled you in for perhaps the millionth kiss that night.

 

You felt safer and more secure now that you knew you both had a lifetime supply of kisses ahead of you. There were no regrets, maybe you could’ve waited on it but once he brought it up it was all either of you could think about. It took some of the pressure off Peter, having one less thing to worry about with every little thing piling up on his plate, he liked knowing you would always be there. You were everything he ever wanted, now he could truly breathe knowing you weren’t going to leave him on his own.

 

“Peter, I don’t really feel that different,” you confessed, kind of expecting a monumental change.

 

“What if I called you my wife, would that change things?” he teased, a rush of adrenaline coursed through you. You forgot how to breathe, hearing him refer to you as his wife was surreal and unbelievable. You wished you could stay like this forever, drinking in the euphoria of the moment, listening to him whisper sweet things in your ear all night.

 

“Are you glad you asked me?” you spoke softly, as Peter looked up at you, entranced.

 

_“I’m glad you said yes.”_

**Just say I do…**


	8. Begin Again

> **_Took a deep breath in the mirror, he didn’t like it when I wore high heels, but I do._ **

 

Y/N slipped on one of her tallest pair of heels; right away, her thoughts crept back to him. He had told her she wasn’t allowed to wear them because he didn’t like how they put her on equal ground with him. Her jaw clenched at the irony of it; he always had to be towering over her.

  
She began to remove the heels but hesitated for a moment. Who was he to still hold the reins on her life? She closed her eyes and pictured the cute brown-haired boy who had asked her out when the chemistry teacher paired them up as lab partners. He had been afraid to make eye contact during the conversation as well as herself. He had expected her to say no, but her reply had been, “I don’t even know your name.” He finally gained the courage to look into her eyes as he boldly stated: “I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”

  
She stood up and with one last glance in the mirror decided to keep the heels. She smiled slightly to herself as she snatched up her purse and headed out to meet Peter.

 

> **_Walked in expecting you’d be late, but you got here early. You stand and wave; I walk to you._ **
> 
>  

She arrived a few minutes early expecting to wait around for at least fifteen minutes until he showed up. Her eyes fell on him balancing two steaming cups of coffee to a corner table, and her jaw fell in surprise. Peter saw her immediately, and he lifted his arm in the air giving her a thrilled wave. She bit her lip and turned her gaze to the floor.  
She stumbled over her heels once she got to the table, and he reached out with one hand to hold her waist steady while he pulled out a chair for her with the other.

 

> _**You don’t know how nice that is, but I do.** _

 

“Are you okay?” his face scrunched up a little, “Did you get taller?” he examined her, sending a wave of embarrassment and regret over her shoe choice through her.

  
“Oh, yeah… I’m wearing heels… Sorry, I can take them off if you want,” she looked down again, trying to mask her hurt.

  
“What? No! You look fantastic in them! Besides, now we’re at the same eye level; it works out perfectly!” Peter rushed to compliment her.

  
She returned his gaze, amazed at how he had proved to be the exact opposite of her ex in almost every way in such a short period of time. She nodded in response and took a seat across from him.

  
“I got our coffee already; I hope you like peppermint mochas,” he expressed, a glint of hope mixed with fear shining in his enchanting chocolatey-brown eyes.

  
“I love them! I like sweet coffee better than when it’s bitter,” she clarified for him.

  
“That would make sense; you seem super sweet,” Peter joked, sending a rush of butterflies fluttering in her chest. He admired the way she blushed at every compliment as if she didn’t know how perfect she was inside and out.

 

You throw your head back laughing like a little kid; I think it’s strange that you think I’m funny because he never did.

 

“Obviously you haven’t seen me react to a bad test grade,” she cracked a joke, anticipating a blank stare, but instead, Peter grinned as he tossed his head back like it was the funniest thing in the world.

  
“Oh, so you’re a perfectionist too?” he assumed optimistically. Her cheeks grew a rosy shade of pink at the thought.

  
“That would be an understatement,” she laughed, and once again, he smiled at her like she was the only girl in the world. Her ex never understood or cared for her jokes, so she adapted and just stopped making them altogether. He’d tell her that she didn’t need to be funny; she was pretty and that’s all she needed to be to find a man to take care of her.

  
Peter grew worried as her eyes glazed over, deep in thought. He struggled to remember if he had said anything to embarrass or make her feel uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and blurted out the first fact that came to mind.

  
“Uh, did you know that caffeine’s shape is similar to a molecule called adenosine so that it can bind to the same receptors in your brain to block the effects and keep you alert?” his voice trembled slightly, instantly regretting what he said.

 

She smiled at his dorkiness and leaned across the table to grab his warm, soft hand in hers.

  
“That’s honestly so interesting! Has anyone ever told you how smart you are, Peter?” she complimented him, slowly building up her confidence.

  
“No. Well, I don’t know, maybe once or twice; I don’t really keep track. Not like I have tally marks on the walls of my room or anything,” he gushed, blushing heavily.

 

> **_We tell stories, you don’t know why I’m coming off a little shy, but I do._ **
> 
>  

Minutes ticked by, until, she looked down and realized they had been there for more than an hour; she kept silent, too enthralled in the adorable boy she was enjoying getting to know.

  
“You write songs! That’s so cool; you should sing here! They have a sign-up sheet and everything; wouldn’t that be a dream?” Peter excitedly encouraged her.

  
“No, no, that’s okay. I’m not a real singer or anything,” she tried to push away the idea of sharing her music. She flashed back to the time she had shown her ex a song she had written for him, but he just laughed and told her if she wanted to sing, she should just do covers. Since then, she’d never even imagined sharing her songs with anyone ever again.

  
“Umm, what makes a singer fake? Can you fake sing? Come on, I’m sure you’re amazing!” he coaxed her into signing her name up.

  
She opened her mouth to shut his idea down completely, but she paused when she saw how passionately Peter was looking at her. He wasn’t joking; he really wanted to ensure that she felt confident in her talents. Her heart melted a little at his eagerness, and before she realized what she was saying, she finally agreed.

  
“Well, I guess I could try at least once…”

  
Peter abruptly stood up and without asking, grabbed her hand and hastily dragged her to the sign-up sheet. He shoved the pen in her hand before she could change her mind.  
“So, uh, it’s okay if I come and watch… right?” he nervously asked permission.

  
“You better! I can’t do it unless you’re there,” she begged.

  
“Oh! Of course, I’ll be there! I’ll be there 20 minutes early just like toda-,” he cut himself off before he finished his sentence, mortified that he revealed how early he arrived at their date.

  
“Thanks, Peter. Sorry, but I have to get going now; I’ll see you in school then?” she reluctantly began her goodbyes.

  
“I could walk you home… if that’s what you want…” he offered shyly. She nodded in agreement and led the way.

  
“So do you live in this direction too?” she wondered, and he shook his head.

  
“No, I actually live the other way,” he admitted.

  
She hid her shocked expression, amazed at how Peter didn’t even seem to have to try to be so pure and just good.

 

> **_I almost brought him up, but you start to talk about the movies that your family watches every single Christmas._ **

She almost told him the truth of how her ex never once walked her home in their entire relationship, but he broke the silence first.

  
“There’s, uh, this movie my Aunt May and I always watch together every Christmas, and the main character reminds me a lot of you. She’s gorgeous and stunning, but it’s like she doesn’t even have a clue. I always suspected it was because someone who didn’t deserve to be with her treated her wrong…” Peter put into words; her head swiveled to look at him, and she stopped right in her tracks.

  
“How-how did you know about him?” she asked, puzzled because she didn’t think she had brought him up during their date.

  
“Because… everything, I guess. It just doesn’t make sense that a girl like you is shy and insecure. Y/N, you are so, so perfect, and I hope you give me the chance to prove that to you,” Peter confessed.

  
She stared back at him in awe not believing what she was hearing. He reached a hand to cup the side of her face; the gesture seemed more romantic than intended to be. A single tear rolled down her face and dropped onto his hand; she looked into his concerned eyes with so much gratitude.

  
“Peter, thank you. Nobody has looked at me or talked to me this way in a long, long time. Sometimes I-I think he broke me, and I’ll never be able to put myself back together,” she opened up. He reached to cup her face with both hands now. He stood so close she could taste the peppermint on his breath.

  
“It’s okay to feel that way. Sometimes you just need someone to mend the first two pieces together again, and then the rest will be a breeze,” he concluded.

  
He rested his forehead on hers, and she closed the gap between them with her lips. Peter froze, taken aback, but quickly caught on and slid his hands down to hold her waist. Snowflakes fell from the frosted white sky and cascaded down her hair sending shivers down her spine. Feeling her shake, he swiftly removed his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. After an instant that felt like an eternity, they broke apart and walked the few steps left to her door.

  
“I’ll see you around, Pete,” she shot him a flirty smirk, and he swore he could feel his heart jump out of his chest as he awkwardly waved goodbye to the girl he now called his crush.

  
She shut the door behind her and immediately ran to her bedroom grinning out of control. She lunged for her notebook, her guitar, and got to work.

 

* * *

 

  
Y/N trembled in fear as she looked out into the small crowd gathered to hear her sing at the coffee shop. Her eyes fell on none other than Peter Parker, who simply shot her an innocent smile and a thumbs-up. A warmth filled her body, giving her the boost of confidence she desperately needed. She adjusted her guitar and tapped the microphone.  
“This is a little song I wrote the other night, called Begin Again.”

 

> _**And for the first time, what's past is past.** _


	9. Monster

 

Y/N’s eyes fell into a haze over Peter, dreamily watching as he tapped the eraser-head of his shortened pencil riddled with bite marks from his anxious habits against the top of his desk. She tried to break her stare, but her thoughts drifted to each little thing he did that most would never care to notice, except her.

 

She loved the way the corners of his eyes crinkled up whenever he couldn’t contain a wide grin that seemed to take over his entire face, that contagious smile that made her bite down roughly on her own lip to hide her happiness. She loved the way his lips parted to form the shape of a tiny “o” when worry overtook him; his big brown eyes swelled like they were chocolate tootsie-pops impersonating his orbs. And she especially loved his recurrent pattern of struggling under the burden of all his textbooks in his hands one day, and the next shyly carrying them inside a brand-new backpack he would be sure to lose soon enough. No one noticed these things about Peter Parker, whereas she couldn’t possibly ignore them if she tried. 

 

“Hola, como estás?” Peter’s lovable attempt at an accent broke her concentration, a smile crossed her lips before she could tell herself not to feel that way.

 

“What?” she fumbled around with her notes, trying to establish what the topic of their conversation was supposed to be. Peter reached across the aisle to tap the top of her page with his pencil, a friendly closed-lip smile placed her mind at ease. 

 

“Oh, um.. estoy bien, pero desearía no estar en la escuela,” she half-laughed, joking that she didn’t want to be at school. Peter drew a blank at her words, and a confused expression crossed his face laced with an evident tone of frustration in his response. 

 

“Did we learn that? I don’t remember--” he trailed off, too busy anxiously flipping through his Spanish notebook to finish his sentence. The teacher cut him off with a quick reminder of the new partner project, and Peter flashed her a smile with a twinkle of hope she would be his partner. Rolling her eyes, she nodded, even though she’d never dream of picking anyone else. 

 

“So when can we meet up, can you after school today?” she asked, shifting to face him in her chair. Peter kept his eyes trained on the ground, his fingers dug into the fabric of his jeans and formed tight fists momentarily, until he released them and broke the news. 

 

“Actually I have the, uh, Stark internship so I don’t really have time…” Peter mumbled with a pang of pity in his words. Her face shrunk, the smile disappearing from her features as she turned back away from him to face the front of the classroom. 

 

“Well, when are you free?” she huffed, trying to contain her disappointment. 

 

“I’m not,” he blurted, a bit faster than she would have preferred. A twinge of defense and exasperation rumbled through her bones as she snapped her textbook shut. 

 

“Yeah, I realize that, Peter. I’m not fucking stupid,” she harshly whispered, squinting her eyes to avoid the rare possibility that she would cry. For reasons unknown to him, she would never let a single teardrop slip down her cheek. Peter could never see that side of her, he would have no reason too. But, sometimes her two personalities would collide and mesh together, a fact she despised. 

 

“I promise we’ll find a time, okay?” he comforted her, gently giving her wrist a squeeze. A still moment passed, his hand growing warmer by the second pressing against her skin. The bell droned overhead signaling the end of the school day, and Peter’s hand retreated to his side as he leaped out of his chair and sprinted out the door. 

 

Still glued to her seat, her fingers gripped the sides of her textbook, trying to comprehend what had just happened. She cringed at the thought that Peter imagined they were alike when really deep down she knew better than that. She knew that they were not even close to similar. Peter was just an innocent, cute boy she had connected with in Spanish class. It couldn’t go any further, she couldn’t risk him seeing the horrible person that lay underneath her inviting surface.

 

*** 

 

Y/N admired from above the chaos beneath her, chaos she had created with a simple twirl of a finger. She allowed the bank teller to press the emergency call button before flinging him forcefully against the wall with a flick of the wrist. She didn’t want the money, not a single penny; she wanted the masked hero that always seemed to follow her every move. He anticipated everything, like he just sat on the ledge of a building overlooking Queens, just waiting for her to make the teeniest of moves. 

 

_ Spider-man _

 

Just the name snapped her jaw shut and caused her fists to ball up at her sides. That movement alone could shatter the glass of a thousand skyscrapers if she didn’t keep her inner rage in check. 

 

As expected, the superhero clad in red swung in through the broken window, landing on his toes silently, his legs open in the bent shape of a V. Without even searching for her, he ran to the tied up hostages, sweet slurs of “you’re going to be okays” fled his mouth hidden underneath a cowardly mask. A smirk built up on her lips, a single mask disguised her nose and sharp eyes, but her mouth remained exposed and painted over in a scarlet red. Waiting another minute for him to believe he had won, she eventually cracked her knuckles and jumped off the top of the railing. 

 

Swerving to face her, he didn’t react fast enough, and she pushed out her hands with much more effort than earlier. Her hands never met his skin, but she still sent him collapsing to the ground under the invisible pressure. Grinning with pride, she swung her legs over his midriff, pulling out an intricately designed knife from the inside of her boot. She twirled the tip of the blade against her index finger, not afraid of the drip of red blood that seemed to burn into his suit. 

 

He thrashed underneath her like a frightened boy, as much as she would let him. Her long fingernails glided underneath the tight fabric of the mask that protected his identity. Slower than ever, she lifted it barely enough to reveal his shaking, rosy pink lips. The darkness in her heart possessed her every thought and action, her signature move never forgotten: a kiss before a kill. She leaned in so that her bottom lip grazed over the top of his, pleased as he stopped all movements. They always fell into the trance of her kiss. It was so powerful, almost as if she had wanted it to happen, dreamed of it. Wiping her lips with her sleeve, she couldn’t shake away the feeling. Brushing it off as nothing, she ripped off the rest of his mask. 

 

“Peter?” she whispered, falling backward to the ground. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he ejected webs from his fingertips quicker than a heartbeat, trapping her to the floor. It was his turn to take the upper hand, a steely glare bore into her as if he could see behind her mask. 

 

“How do  _ you _ know my name?” Peter spat, jaw clenched as he prepared himself to return the favor and tear the mask off her face. He had this terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach like he wasn’t going to like what he saw. 

 

“Y/N…  _ no _ ”

 

The horrified expression written across Peter’s face brought her back to reality, it shoved aside the dark, uncontrollable villain she had no recollection of becoming. He tossed the mask aside, and all her confidence she had when she wore it left her body. He cast away her mask, her other identity, like it disgusted him. Her grip loosened on the knife she still clutched in her palm, as it clanged to the floor at his feet. 

 

Peter picked it up, crouching beside her, emotionless, a blank slate. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears fought to escape from her tightly suctioned eyelids. Tears that she swore never to shed. Her entire body broke out into a tremble as the sobs bubbled up at the bottom of her throat before pouring out. She awaited for him to end it, to drive the knife through her heart as she deserved.

 

Peter cupped her face in his soft palms, before sliding his hands to wrap comfortingly around her shoulders, pulling her in deeply to his embrace. He dug the knife into the webs holding her down, the minute her hands were free he threw the weapon far across the floor. 

 

“Peter… I.. I’m a  _ monster _ ,” she whispered shakily, pulling apart from his hug, feeling unworthy. Lifting up her chin, her eyes scanned the scene in horror. 

 

“What-- what did I do?” her voice faded from shock. Fear ripped through him, not of her, or of who she was or what she did, but because of how frightened she appeared at her actions. 

 

“Please, no don’t look at it, look at me, just look at me,” he repeated, drawing her back in with the honeyed tone of his voice. She followed his orders, tears spilling down her cheeks, more than she had ever cried before. Her mouth formed the words “help me” but no sound came out. 

 

“Breathe. Just breathe, I got you, please don’t cry,” Peter begged, fingers gripping onto her shoulders so hard but she couldn’t feel a thing. 

 

“No, Peter, stay away I’m a monster and…” she couldn’t bring herself to finish, her actions not worth repeating. Chin quivering and hands shaking in her lap, she diffused hopelessness. 

 

“No, you aren’t a monster; you were never a monster, you’re just hurt,” Peter strove to convince her, never wanting her to believe the words coming from her lips. 

 

“I’ve hurt so many people, and I almost killed you…” she continued to pile on the facts, too afraid to lift up her eyes and meet his, so he did it for her. 

 

“Hey, I’m still here and so are you, just hold my hand, okay?” Peter spoke softly, slipping his fingers between hers, sending a warmth straight to her heart. 

 

“O-okay” 

 

Pulling his mask back over his face, Peter scooped up her limp body in his arms, desperate to escape the red and blue flashing lights before it got more complicated. They flew out the back window in a flurry and whip of webs from his powerful wrists, while she cried into his chest. He only prayed they got to his room as fast as possible, the adrenaline making his limbs move faster than ever before. 

 

***

 

Hours later, the sun sunk down over the horizon, and was replaced with a silvery crescent moon and sprinkle of stars in the midnight sky. Y/N lay her head on Peter’s chest wrapped up in his sweatshirt and baggy pants, mesmerized by the steady rise and fall, the consistency of it all. She hoped it would never have to change. 

 

Peter fingered through her hair as he sloppily pressed his lips to her forehead over and over. He just wanted to make everything better for her; he just wanted to be there for her. Her eyes flicked upward to meet his, a cautious smile began to fill her lips. He wanted more, to bring a true grin to her. 

 

“Wanna start on that Spanish project, now that, you know?” he teased, earning a playful shove as she buried her face deeper into his cotton shirt. Peter pulled up the covers to wrap around the two of them even more, resting easy knowing that he could make her smile. Maybe everything would be okay after all. 


	10. don't need to be scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cause it's halloween soon! :)

Your shoulders shot up, the muscles tightening and cramping up until Peter’s hands smoothed over the top of them. It had just been the wind blowing a plastic water bottle, skidding across the walkway leading up to the haunted house. He raised an eyebrow suspiciously, before you remember to play it off as a shiver and wrapped his fleecy jacket tighter around your body. Peter’s eyes trailed off, focusing on something behind you, and it was your turn to trade looks of suspicion, a ball of fear preventing you from turning to see what he was eyeing up.

 

“Peter, what are you looking at?” you tried to maintain an unshaken, confident tone but the nerves had seeped through to your words. Feeling a tap on your shoulder, they returned to their previous tense state as you abruptly spun around on your heels. A scream escaped your lips and your hand flew to cover up your mouth at the girl standing much too close for comfort. Her white wisps of hair were loosely tied into two pigtails, trailing all the way down to finally end at her hips. Thick, black, fake eyelashes made her bloodshot-red eyes pop out of her pale skin, smears of lipstick strayed from the intended spot.

 

Giggling like a little girl, she picked up a strand of your hair and twirled it in mini-circles over her fingers, reaching out with her other hand to examine your own hand. You wanted to pull yourself away but Peter’s hands slid down to your waist and he made everything a bit less frightening just by being near. She bent down closer to the sidewalk until she was mere inches from your shaking fingertips, and stuck out her tongue and licked your finger. Laughing at your horrified expression, she skipped away to find someone else to scare. Swiveling around to face Peter, you ferociously rubbed your hand against the fabric of your jeans, disgusted as he couldn’t hide his shy grin from you.

 

“What was that! The–they aren’t allowed to touch you, right?” you gushed out, eyes searching out for Peter’s warm ones that reminded you of hot cocoa and marshmallows. A pelt of laughter flung from his lips and he hunched forward, shaking in laughter as you gently pushed him away and sent him a deathly glare. He soon stopped and reached out his hands toward you, his mouth bent down in a pout that you broke contact with him. Sighing and rolling your eyes to the darkening sky overhead, you shuffled back to rest against Peter’s chest, relaxing into the steady thumping in his chest. You stood in front of him, leaning back into him as his hands settled over your hips, his thumbs spiraling through the belt loops in the front of your jeans. Peter made you feel braver; all you had to do was look at him and remember how incredibly fearless he actually was, not just as Spider-man but as Peter Parker too.

 

As minutes rolled past, the line inched its way closer to the door into the house, and you began to rethink saying yes to Peter’s suggestion to go to a haunted house on Halloween. Why couldn’t you have just stayed behind, passing out candy from the comfort of your front porch, secretly exchanging laughs at all the little boys and girls dressed in a Spider-man costume? Your palms moistened with sweat, shoulders tensing up despite Peter’s constant soothing squeezes. Not able to take it anymore, you turned around and met him with as much of a convincing look as you could muster.

 

**“I’m not going in there.”**

 

“Y/N, just relax, it’ll be alright! You don’t even have to look, just keep your head in my chest and move your feet, I’ll be holding your hand the whole time,” Peter strove to convince you to follow him inside. Your tongue swept across the roof of your mouth, eyes darting to his broken-down sneakers tapping the cement. Moments passed and you finally caved in, nodding and his face lit up into a smile that tugged at your heartstrings. Leaning forward on your toes, your lips brushed over the side of his cheek as you whispered the next part in secret to his ear.

 

“But you have spidey senses and it’s an unfair advantage!” you pointed out, a red flush spreading over his features. He tangled his fingers through your hair, pulling you in closer to whisper in return.

 

“Yea, but it’s  _our_ advantage,” Peter persuaded you and snuck a quick kiss to your temple. Eyes swerving to check the status of the line, your heart flipped over in your chest when you noticed there was only one couple left separating you from the entrance. Peter’s fingertips rubbed into the base of your palm, tracing circles to remind you he always had your back. As the people in front of you were ushered in, you threw your arms around Peter’s neck, so close there was nothing but his worn, cotton flannel separating you from him. Breathing in deeply, you took in his comforting scent of toasty apple cider and cinnamon churros, the best combination.

 

Sadly, Peter eventually broke the hug, nudging you off and pushing you into the pitch-black hallway. The walls forced Peter to stand behind you, cramped together as wisps of fake spider-webs blew past your cheeks. You bit back a smile, knowing from experience that webs didn’t actually feel like that.

 

The first room was the complete opposite, bright-white spotlights flooded your vision and you blinked repetitively at the black spots swarming across the walls. Not feeling too scared yet, just uncomfortable at the people grabbing at your arms, but Peter shoved you forward onto the next couple rooms. As things got progressively worse, you hid your screams into Peter’s chest as his hands rubbed up and down your spine to ensure he was still there. You avoided eye contact with the yelling figures, hauntingly-beautiful dolls, rusty old baby cribs, and fake blood and corpses. You jolt at every jump scare but for the most part, you’re still okay and keep going on.

 

Until you get to the second to last room, and it all went to hell. In the center sat a circle of clowns, hands clasped together in some horrifying cult. Stopped dead in your tracks, your feet cemented into the floor beneath you; Peter kept pushing into your back but you didn’t even budge. Judging your reaction, one of the clowns jumps to his feet and runs zig-zags to stand right in front of the two of you. Balloons floated in all directions, the clown stepped closer as his fire-orange hair stuck out wildly and his red plush nose skimmed over your own.

 

Peter could feel the fear radiating off your skin, no longer thinking it was cute anymore. He got defensive and pushed the clown away from your path to the exit. He took both your hands, lifting you off the ground slightly, easily carrying you forward straight through the last room until the cool air stung against your skin leaving goosebumps all over.

 

Feeling like an idiot, your eyes focused to the dirt on the ground as Peter set you down carefully on a wooden bench, not taking his hands off of you. The wind shook the crooked tree limbs, scattering leaves to settle atop the dead, murky-brown grass at your feet. He lifted your chin with his index finger then shifted his eyes away nervously, and you bit back your lip so he couldn’t watch it tremble. Gaining a bit more courage, he breathes out and wipes away at the corners of your eyes where tiny pools of tears have collected. Peter picked up on your embarrassment from that room and attempted to make it a bit better.

 

“I get scared too sometimes, ya know…” he began, but you just laughed, sure that he didn’t understand what you were feeling.

 

“No, Peter, you’re… _you know who_ , you don’t get scared,” you declared, certain of your statement. His head pivoted, eyes desperately pleading with you to listen and try to understand as he revealed the truth.

 

“No, I do! I’m scared that I’m just a dumb teenager trying to be a superhero but all I seem to do is make more mistakes that just pile on top of each other. I’m scared for the world to find out that behind my mask: I’m human. But I’m scared– most of all that something is gonna happen, and-and that I won’t be able to save you…” Peter confessed, hanging his head to rest on his chest. Your mouth parted as you gazed at him in awe, the only words that left your lips were:

 

_“Peter…”_

 

A deep rosy-red blush spreads to his cheeks, and he removes his hands from you as he gets up and begins to pace back and forth. He runs a hand through his hair and tugs at the ends of the chocolatey curls, frustrated.

 

“I just… ugh,” he breathed out, anxiety wrapping its fingers around his throat, choking him so the words wouldn’t come out. You cautiously stand and move to him, creeping your arms over his shoulders, standing a little taller to press a kiss to his cheek and he relaxes into your hold.

 

“Peter, you don’t need to be scared, okay? I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, so just take a breath okay?” you coaxed, and he followed your suggestion, sucking in a deep breath and blowing it out slowly behind gritted teeth. Being close to you made it all feel… _okay._

 

Peter grinned and continued to blush, and everything fell quiet. Flipping you around, he wraps you up in his embrace, and you love how he warms you up when you’re numb. Breaking the silence, Peter tips his forehead into yours, moving his lips against your skin, his words bringing you an uncontrollable smile.

 

“So clowns, huh?”


	11. Talking in your sleep

Peter’s concerned coffee-brown eyes switched anxiously back and forth between the clock hanging from the hallway ceiling to your empty locker. The steaming plastic cup burned into the palms of his hands, his tight grip not making it that much better. Two incredibly dragged-on minutes later, you trudged through the door at the opposite end of the hall, and Peter could’ve sworn his heart stopped in his chest. This was his moment and he couldn’t blow it.

 

He pressed his body up against his locker across the hall from you, every other second peeking behind the door to catch a glimpse. Your hair was pulled back in a loose braid, little chunks hanging out the sides and you were practically drowning in a baggy sweatshirt. Dark circles surrounded your eyes because every night for you was a long night. Peter breathed out deeply, and quickly strode to stand behind you, his eyes focused on your tall, fuzzy pink socks. Too afraid to tap your shoulder to get your attention, he just started to ramble on instead.

 

“Hey Y/N, I um– got you a vanilla latte… Sorry, it’s just, you always look so exhausted first period and I know this is your favorite cause you order it every morning before class at The Brew. So, yeah, I thought I’d get it for you instead,” Peter finally concluded, his words fell out so fast and all blended together he wasn’t sure if you’d understand. A few seconds passed of pure and utter silence, until you swerved around, jumping backward in shock once you saw him standing there. You tugged out your earbuds and cocked your head to the side.

 

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” you questioned, and Peter wondered if he was just imagining the gleam and new energy in your eyes after seeing him. His head hung to the floor, mortified, and he simply shoved the cup of coffee into your hands, startling you with his kind gesture.

 

“I, uh, got you this, sorry gotta go,” Peter blurted out, fleeing the scene almost as abruptly as he had initiated it.

 

On his way back to his locker, he tripped over his step, in the process accidentally sending a short freshman girl’s heavy stack of books flying across the floor. In a panicked rush, he scrambled across the floor to pick them up for her, other students dodged all around him but one football player didn’t seem to notice him. He knocked into Peter’s side, sending him stumbling into the poor girl again, bruising her upper lip with a wave of textbooks thrown at her face. Tears built up in the corners of her eyes, and Peter rushed to apologize over and over, then he averted his gaze down to the ground again as he rushed to class.

 

Your hand flew to cover up the giggles that threatened to escape your lips. A warm, bubbly happiness seemed to liven up your tired and sore body, all from a cute, nerdy boy you wished would talk to you more often. Popping open the lid of the coffee, you breathed in the scent of your favorite morning pleasure, shocked that Peter knew one of your not-so-secret secrets. A blush diffused across your cheeks, and you wavered back and forth until the loud ring of the five-minute bell snapped you out of your dreamy haze, forcing you to slam your locker and rush to class.

 

* * *

 

**1:22 a.m.**

 

Peter’s eyes drooped behind his Spider-man mask, every ten seconds he would jolt awake with a burst of energy and scan the roads beneath him for some dangerous criminal, but each time there would be nothing and he’d slowly fall back under. His head slowly leaned forward, his shoulders along with it, and before he was aware of what was happening he was falling through the air off one of the tallest buildings in Queens. Through muffled screams, his spidey-senses kicked in and he shot his webs around a street lamp beneath him, landing with a quiet thud on the heels of his protected feet.

 

“Damn–” Peter began, stopping himself short from cursing, instinctively he looked over his shoulder, sure Mr. Stark was going to be there to chastise him. His shoulders relaxed once he was certain he was alone on the street. At least, so he thought.

 

Peter aimlessly took small steps across the sidewalk, making little bundles of webs in his hands and tossing them up in the air to catch them again in his palms. His incredible hearing picked up on padded footsteps approaching, and his eyes narrowed as he swerved around and ran to the location of the sound, sure he’d be catching some suspicious criminal in the act.

 

He stopped so suddenly in his tracks when his eyes found you he almost fell flat on his face on the street. You took small steps, barefoot, grey baggy sweatpants hung loosely on your hips, only a cropped pink tanktop exposed the skin on your arms to the cool, outside air. Peter flew to your side, huffing to catch his breath he spewed out a million questions to you.

 

“Y/N, what are you doing? Where are you going? You do realize it’s…” Peter trailed off to wait for Karen to tell him the time. _1:37 a.m, Peter._

 

“1:37 a.m!” he finished, awaiting you to say something in response to put his mind at ease. To his confusion, you strutted past him like he wasn’t even there, and his heart sunk in his chest. But, he was determined to at least get you home safely.

 

“Y/N! Please… don’t ignore me, okay? I’m just trying to help you,” his voice was soft and sweet, dripping with heartfelt concern. You still didn’t stop walking, and he jogged to your side, pulling at your wrists to get you to at least look into his eyes.

 

“What…?” he murmured, noticing how your eyes were almost glazed over like you were conscious and unconscious at the same time. He watched your chest rise up and retreat back down; you were breathing, alive, but still couldn’t grasp Peter right in front of you.

 

“Karen, help! I… I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” Peter confessed, sending a plea for help.  _Peter, your girlfriend appears to be sleepwalking._

 

“What! She’s not my– well I mean, I wish, but– wait. She’s sleepwalking?” Peter cut himself short, a wave of realization crashed over him. It explained your constant tired state at school, and he mentally cursed himself for not picking up on this sooner. He wondered how many nights you had spent roaming the streets like this, and shuddered at the thought of what could have happened to you.

 

You grew even weaker and tumbled forward into Peter’s arm, shaking from the cold, goosebumps scattered across every inch of open skin. Peter ran his hands up and down your arms smoothly to generate heat, eventually, he decided it would be best to get you home and figure it out from there. He looped a sturdy arm around your waist, making sure your head rested comfortably on his shoulder before he released webs from his fingertips in the direction of your apartment.

 

Blushing, Peter was aware that if you woke up, you’d want to know how he knew where you lived. He hoped you wouldn’t so that he didn’t have to reveal how he follows you home every day to make sure you’re kept safe.

 

In just a few minutes, Peter stood on the fire escape, slowly and silently inching open the window to your bedroom. He cradled you in his arms to fit you through the small opening and laid you down gently on your bed. Your eyes shot open at the movement and Peter’s breath hitched in his throat, but returned once he saw you were still in a haze. As soon as he set you down, he whipped off his mask and let it fall to the floor.

 

“Where do you keep your—?” Peter muttered, searching your room for socks to slip over your bare feet. He gulped and pulled open the top dresser drawer, gasping and looking away when he laid eyes on the pile of bras. Cautiously, he shut the drawer and opened the next, relieved to find countless pairs of fuzzy pink socks, obviously your signature.

 

After he made sure your feet were warm, he lifted you back into his arms to pull the sheets over the top of you. Taking one last look, he shifted in the bed to leave, but your fingers clung onto the spandex-material of his suit like you never planned on letting go.

 

Peter didn’t have the heart to pull your hands off of him, and he really didn’t want to. He wanted to make sure you stayed asleep and didn’t take off again in the night, now a constant fear in the back of his mind. Time ticked by, Peter’s eyelids fell heavy on his cheeks and he tried to fight away the urge, but sleep won over him.

 

_“Mmm, Peter.”_

 

Peter’s eyes flashed open, his mouth agape and eyebrows shot up high on his forehead. His chin dropped to gaze at you, eyes still closed, clinging onto his waist and head over his rapidly beating heart.

 

“Y/N?” his voice cracked, a part of him thought his mind was playing tricks on him, that you couldn’t have muttered his name. You rubbed the side of your cheek against his chest, slowly lifting your chin up until your lips quivered, skimming the surface of Peter’s. In a sleepy trance, you softly pressed a smooth, tired kiss over his lips.

 

Peter froze at first, unable to move, struck with disbelief. After a second or two, his hands trailed up from your waist to delicately cradle your head, his eyelids fluttered closed and body relaxed into the kiss. You turned to the side, breaking the kiss but that didn’t keep Peter’s palms from sweating and heart from racing. He was definitely awake now.

 

“Peter… want you to stay,” you mumbled, right after your breaths turned into little snores that melted his heart even more. All he could do was nod, even though you couldn’t see him, and ran his hands through your hair soothingly. He bent down to plant a kiss to the top of your scalp, then finally shut his own eyes. He worried about what would happen in the morning, if you’d be horrified to find him in your bed, in his…  _Spider-man suit!_

 

“Crap, crap, crap!” Peter swore, desperately searching around the room, hoping to stumble upon some solution. He couldn’t move and risk waking you, so he sunk back into the mattress and tried to calm down. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad; after all, he had just discovered one of your secrets, so it was only fair that you knew his too. Peter let out a sigh, knowing he didn’t have any other option, and for some reason, he felt like he could trust you more than anyone else.

 

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out my peter parker and tom holland blurbs added to my works!


	12. A lovely mess

“I don’t know what it is, he’s so different but  _ so cute _ ,” Willow half-whispered from across the circular table towards the back of the library, receiving some heated glares from a nearby table of nerds hunched over their stacks of calculus homework. You leaned in further and Willow copied your movements, both of your hair draped over the table creating a shield from the rest of the school. 

 

“Who is he?” you drilled, desperate and curious to discover the identity of your best friend’s latest head over heels crush. Her cheeks flushed an alluring shade of pink, all the heat in her body rushed to her face making you that much more interested. Underneath the table, your knees knocked together against hers, your fingers tightening around the book in your hands to contain your excitement. 

 

_ “Peter Parker,”  _ Willow gushed out, immediately covering her flustered face in the palms of her hands, while the smile on your face vanished and a knot built up in your stomach. You’d been crushing on Peter for weeks, obviously noticing the same things about him that she did. Your hopes flew out the window, knowing if Peter had the option he would definitely choose Willow. She had the voice of an angel, when she spoke all eyes in the room were drawn to her. Her soft brown eyes, silky chocolate waves, and caramel colored skin drove everyone crazy, even you didn’t really get why she had chosen you to be friends with. Willow was the type of girl who could be queen of any school she attended, but she was far too humble and shy to assume that role. 

 

“Y/N… you’re not saying anything, I know, I know. He’s kinda nerdy and he always ditches school but he’s so dreamy, don’t you see it?” she cooed, resting her head on the back of her hands on the tabletop, peering at you questioningly. You gulped, knowing you would have to choose your next words carefully. 

 

“I have to go to the bathroom, but this is great, I’ll talk to you about this later!” you blurted out, saying the first excuse that came to mind. She shot you a confused look, a little disappointed by your reaction, expecting you to hype her up, not bolt. Once you stepped into the hallway, a cool rush of air elicited a deep breath out from your pale lips, and you pulled the fleecy sleeve of your sweater down your wrist, using it to wipe away the tears pooling in your eyes before they spilled over. Looking down, you stumbled into a body, murmuring a quick apology before you looked up and saw their face. 

 

“Hey Y/N! I was looking for you actually, ca--can we talk?” Peter asked, tripping over his words the longer you kept eye contact with him. He glanced down to your chest, then to the slightly damp circles under your eyes, like he could tell your heart had sped up and you’d been crying. 

 

“Um, yeah, what’s up?” you managed to pull yourself together enough to sputter out a sentence. Teeth chattering, your eyelashes fluttered swiftly, a last-ditch attempt to hold the tears back. 

 

“You probably already have a boyfriend, but-- wait, I wasn’t saying that I want to be your boyfriend, I just,” Peter paused, sucking in a deep breath of air. You shifted your gaze to your feet, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself from grinning widely. He shuffled his sneakers back and forth, a quiet squeak sounded from the soles of his shoes rubbing against the polished laminate flooring. 

 

“I was just wondering, I don’t know, if you’d ever want to uh, go out with me or something…” Peter tried to finish his thought but the words seemed to get stuck to the roof of his increasingly dry mouth. 

 

“Sure!” you exclaimed, hand flying to your mouth, not believing what you had just said. Peter didn’t seem to catch the meaning of your approval, as he started to walk away from you. He fiddled with the corners of his hall pass, murmuring critical insults at himself as he drooped away, shoulders sunken and head down. 

 

“Peter, where are you going? I said sure?” you called out after him, your voice echoing and bouncing off the walls of the empty hallway. He froze in his tracks, his head abruptly jerking up as he swiveled to face you. A confused expression encompassed his face, before it flashed to overexcited. 

 

“You did? You did!” Peter answered his own question, his eyes bearing into you and he took one step back to you. You slowly nodded up and down, another confirmation sent a flurry of butterflies loose in his chest. 

 

“Cool… so I guess I’ll let you know then,” he trailed off, giving you a cute salute with one hand as he walked backwards. A giggle escaped your lips, your fingers one by one curling up in a makeshift wave goodbye. Peter spun around on his heels before you could see the bright, full smile filling up his cheeks, then disappearing out a set of double doors. 

 

Skipping back to the library, you replayed the interaction over and over in your head as you plopped down in the chair next to Willow, forgetting to wipe the grin off your face. She prodded your side with the eraser tip of her pencil, urging you to spill your thoughts. 

 

“Why are you so smiley, did something happen?” she pressed, a strand of her glossy hair falling out of the ponytail she whipped up in your absence, making her all the more beautiful if that was possible. A frosty chill swept across your skin, the realization of what you had just done to Willow finally hitting you. 

 

“Nothing! I’m just, uh, really happy for you, Wills!” you lied straight through your gritted teeth, hoping she wouldn’t see through your facade. Her lovestruck mood must have clouded her judgement for she just kept going. 

 

“Thank God, you scared the shit out of me! I was gonna ask this earlier, but it seems more right now. Do you think you could, I don’t know, talk to Peter for me a little bit?” she shyly suggested, her glittering hot cocoa-colored eyes pleading into you. 

 

“Yeah, why not?” you agreed, and she dived into your arms, hugging you tight chest to chest, guilt bubbling up inside of you. How could you possibly tell her now?

 

***

 

You took a swig from the steaming paper cup filled to the brim with apple cider, walking home side by side with Peter from your first date. Bright orange pumpkins lined the various shop’s entrances, fall fast approaching. Your free hand dangled at your side, accidentally brushing up against Peter’s fingertips, sending a burst of electricity up your arm. The contact seemed to have the same effect on Peter, and he took the risk, interlacing his fingers with yours. 

 

You squeezed his hand comfortingly; all you wanted to do was wrap your arms around his neck and stay like that forever. The thought brought a smile to your lips, Peter grinning back at you. 

 

“You look really pretty when you smile like that,” he voiced shakily, gradually building up courage with you. A soaring feeling took over you, until a twinge of sadness reminded you of your betrayal of Willow. Stopping on the edge of the sidewalk, you pulled him off to the side to tell him the truth. 

 

“Peter, I--I really shouldn’t be here with you,” you admitted, a rush of panic swept across his face, fear that after what he thought was an amazing date you were turning him down. 

 

“Did.. did I do something wrong?” Peter’s voice cracked, growing quieter. You opened your mouth to further explain, but a familiar voice seeped into your ears. 

 

“Y/N?” Willow muttered from several feet away, shocked as her eyes fell upon your hand comfortably wrapped up in Peter’s. You snatched your hand away from him, taking a step to her, but she backed away in dismay, taking off running in the opposite direction. 

 

“I’m sorry Peter,” you called behind you as you began to chase after Willow, leaving him looking upset but more perplexed than anything else. You bolted after her, finally catching up as she gave up, stopping in her tracks. 

 

“Wills, please, let me explain,” you softly spoke, reaching out to gently hold her wrist. She pulled away, turning to face you, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. 

 

“Wh--why didn’t you just _ tell me the truth _ , Y/N?” she whispered, hurt written all over her expression making the guilt take your breath away. You struggled to come up with a reason, because the only real one you had was that you were too afraid to hurt her feelings, which seemed pointless now that you had managed to do that. 

 

“I… didn’t know how to tell you, you were so excited and I couldn’t take that away from you,” you settled with the truth, no matter how selfish it sounded. A gust of wind blew strands of her perfectly styled brunette spirals across her shoulders, highlighting her puffy pink-rimmed eyes. 

 

“I would have understood,” Willow cried, hurt you couldn’t come to her with the truth in the first place. You looked back at your best friend you cherished more than anyone, through the blurry tears pouring out from your eyes. You tilted your chin to the ground, letting the teardrops roll down your cheeks to land at the base of your feet on the pavement. 

 

“I’m sorry…” you gasped, the sobs making your words incoherent. You were now blinded by your cries, until you felt her hand rest on your waist, as she wiped the wetness from under your eyes with her fingertips. 

 

“C-can I tell you something, Y/N?” she stuttered, and you bobbed your head, ready for her to tell you she was done with you, that she was going to find a new best friend that wouldn’t treat her the way you did. 

 

“I… I don’t know how to say this, I’ve been lying to you too. Sure, I liked Peter, but I’m more upset cause…” she halted, your heart beat out of your chest, chin trembling as you looked up at her, waiting for her to finish. 

 

“I like _ you _ , Y/N,” Willow revealed, adrenaline causing her limbs to shake uncontrollably as she pulled away, not waiting to see your reaction. She dashed off, curls bouncing behind her as she turned the corner, leaving you frozen to the spot, trying to comprehend what had just happened. 

 

“Hey…” Peter’s awkward greeting broke into your consciousness. Your hair was blown in a mess in all directions, eyes red and puffy, body shaking. Peter looked on you with concern, but you stepped back, holding up your hands to warn him to stay away. But the emotions wildly running through you finally took its toll, and you collapsed to the ground on your knees, digging your fingernails into your scalp to try and feel something other than the guilt and dumbfoundedness. 

 

Peter followed suit, pulling you in close to his chest, the sound of his steady heartbeat calming you down slightly. Minutes passed in silence as you sniffled into his flannel, drunk on his intoxicating scent and his warm hands holding your hips. 

 

“What happened between you two?” Peter dared to speak up, and the heartbreak hit you all over again like a truck. You would have explained, but in all honesty you didn’t understand, you would have never seen any of that coming if she hadn’t came clean. 

 

“It’s--- it’s nothing.”


	13. A lovely mess (pt. 2)

 

Peter crept up from behind you, sending a jolt through you as he looped his arms tightly around your waist. You continued to reach for a textbook on the top shelf of your locker, trying to hide your smile from him but he rested his chin on top of your shoulder, peeking up at you and catching a glimpse before you could stop him.

 

“Hey, pretty girl,” Peter whispered, honey-brown eyes lighting up at the way you blushed from his words. 

 

“Hey, Pete,” you smiled back, turning around to face him. He pushed you into the locker as your hands swept up to cup his jaw in your hands; unashamed you planted a quick, but soft and warm kiss to your boyfriend’s lips. A few seconds after you pulled away, you felt wary of someone’s eyes lingering on the two of you a bit longer than usual.  Turning your cheek to the side, you locked eyes with Willow, who spun around on her heels and ran off in the opposite direction. Peter’s eyes followed where your’s had landed, a hurt frown replaced the typical smile written over his face. 

 

“You two still haven’t--”

 

“No, haven’t even spoken since that night,” you cut him short, not wanting to talk about it and instead pushed it off your mind. Peter slipped the palm of his hand underneath your chin, tilting your focus back to him to regain your attention. 

 

“It’s... it’s all my fault and I hate how I ruined your friendship, please talk to her,” Peter insisted, his words heavy with palpable guilt. You rolled your eyes, not knowing how else to deal with the situation, you settled with annoyance and pretended not to care when really that’s all you did. 

 

“It’s nothing, okay? And besides, it wasn’t really all because of you,” you explained, frustrated he wasn’t letting you brush it aside. 

 

“Maybe, I don’t know-- maybe we should stop seeing each other until you sort things out with her,” Peter’s voice dropped to a mere whisper. He squeezed his eyes shut then popped them open, his palms grew damp as he tried to rub them against his jeans. Your jaw dropped a couple inches, shocked he really had just said that to you. 

 

“Are you really going to manipulate me like that?” you shakily asked, a hint of anger present in your tone eclipsed by pure surprise at his suggestion. Peter grew anxious, his head dropped down and fingers trembled against your waist as he struggled to reply. 

 

“No, no, I wasn’t! I didn’t mean it like that, just that you really need to talk to her!” he sputtered out, eyes flicking back and forth between your hands slamming your locker shut and your pissed-off glare. Peter helplessly clung to the shirt hanging off your waist, hoping to pull you back in but you brushed him aside. 

 

“Yeah, I really do,” you called out behind you as you followed in Willow’s footsteps, knowing just where she’d be. Peter lingered behind where you had stood, banging his head once into the locker with a sigh as he took off after you, making sure to keep his distance. 

 

You pushed open the doors to the library, immediately spotting her at the circular table you used to spend your free periods at together. Breathing in deeply, you walked toward her, her back turned to you making it a bit easier. Hastily, you pulled out the chair beside her and sank into it, watching as her eyes widened in amazement until she dropped her gaze and hurried to get her books together. 

 

“No--Wills we can’t put this off any longer!” you hissed, fingers wrapping tightly around her wrist as your other hand settled on her thigh. She paused, letting go of her books, then turning to meet your desperate stare. The corners of her pink-glossed lips flipped up in a bittersweet, short smile, before she looked down at your hand still comfortably dwindling on the surface of her jeans. Nervous, you pulled both of your hands into your lap, shuddering from breaking apart from her after finally reconnecting with her. 

 

“O-okay,” was all she could say, looking at you to initiate the rest. 

 

“I-I miss you, and, god-- I can’t keep dating Peter if it’s gonna be like this between us,” you confessed, not wanting to admit the truth but it felt a little better to say the words out loud. Willow’s hand crept back up to the tabletop, gripping the edge tightly with her fingernails. 

 

“You don’t need to do that just because of me; I’m fine,” she pushed the issue away, eyes locked on her fingers instead of you, where you wanted her to look. Your teeth gritted against each other, frustrated that you couldn’t just be straight up and honest with your best friend. 

 

“No, this is not fine! Please…” you gushed, eyes digging into hers until she finally shifted in her chair to face you once again. One step closer. 

 

“ You’re right I want you back, but I don’t know if I can just be friends with you and then see you with Peter every day. I don’t want to come in between you two though, so I guess this is just a lovely mess,” she concluded, giving up hope on a solution, thinking you had exhausted every option, and that it just had to be this way.  Your hands quaked uncontrollably so you tried to hide them by slipping them under your thighs, but it was too late. Willow picked up on it and looked back at you expectantly, sending more fear straight to your heart. 

 

“It, fuck, doesn’t, uh-- doesn’t have to be…” 

 

Right after the words fled your lips you lifted your shaking hands to cover your face, burying yourself into your palms so you didn’t have to see her reaction. A confused look passed over her expression until it switched to one of understanding, and her mouth formed the shape of an ‘o.’

 

“You mean?” she raised an eyebrow and you didn’t have to see her to know that. Still covering up your face, you nodded into your hands in response. You couldn’t speak, she’d have to do the talking instead. 

 

“Do you really think Peter would be okay with that though?” Willow pressed, but it’s not like you could answer for him, so you simply shrugged your shoulders up and let them fall back into place. 

 

“Uh, hey…”

 

At the same time, both you and Willow swiveled your heads behind you, eyes falling on Peter awkwardly standing still, a heavy pink blush scattered across his cheeks as well. 

 

“How--how long have you been standing there?” you were the first to break the silence but terrified to hear his answer. Peter bit back his bottom lip, trying to keep back what you could only guess was a slighly embarassed, yet smug smile. 

 

“Well I, uh, followed you here from your locker cause I was worried, but basically since you sat down…” Peter revealed, eyes trained to the floor but every so often they flicked up to look at the two of you in front of him. 

 

“Oh,” you spoke simultaneously with her, now your turn to bite back a smile from Peter. Peter breathed out a puff of air and settled on pulling up a chair and plopping down in the seat. 

 

He lifted his eyes off the floor, his heart was beating so hard he swore the entire library could hear it’s unsteady rhythm. Scared but certain, his fingertips grazed over the tops of yours, asking for permission as you slipped yours between his. His touch took away a bit of the anxiety, but not for Willow. 

 

Shrinking down in her chair, she deflected her gaze from the two of you, feeling more like an idiot than that night she told you her true thoughts. Her jaw clenched and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink otherwise she knew the tears would trail down her cheeks and she was sick of crying in front of you. 

 

Peter cleared his throat, drawing back in her attention as he shakily raised his hand to also intertwine with hers. Willow sucked in a breath, but let Peter lace his fingers in between hers, feeling a rush of adrenaline shoot up her arm as she looked at you, judging your reaction to see if it was okay. You sent her a smile, not a clue what was really happening but neither did any of the three of you. 

 

Maybe it was a bit messy, maybe it wasn’t that normal, but you kinda liked it that way. 


	14. friends? friends.

Keeping your head down, you focus on maneuvering through the fast-moving pairs of sneakers in the hallway. Frustrated tears blur up your vision but you keep pushing through and accidentally crash head-on into a body. You look up and breathe out in relief to see it’s just Peter Parker.

 

His lips tilt up into a soft smile that normally would melt your heart but in your current mood, you don’t think anyone could make you feel better.

 

“Sorry, Peter,” you mumble and slide past him, his eager expression dropping in concern as you leave without speaking another word to him. His hand hangs out in front of him, meant to comfortingly squeeze your shoulder but now the gesture feels pointless to Peter so he pulls his arms into his chest and shuffles in the direction of his next class.

 

It’s the last class of the day and Peter spends the entire time tapping his foot anxiously against the leg of his desk and drawing out new suit designs, shielding his paper with his hands so nobody else could see. The bell finally rings and he’s the first to scramble out of his seat and fly out of the door so he can check back up on you. He lingers a few lockers down from yours; his eyebrows furrow up as he observes you angrily enter your com and shove textbooks with a thud inside of it. Peter carefully approaches with slow steps, freezing when you look up, but your gaze is focused past him.

 

Swiveling his head, he catches what you’re looking at: a group of girls laughing in their clique, heels clicking across the floor as they shoot people dirty looks and flip their long, styled hair across their shoulders. You duck your head into your locker as they get closer, fingers shaking as you shut the door and lean your forehead against it with your eyes closed. Peter lets out another breath and breaks through the distance between the two of you, tapping gently with two fingers on top of your shoulder.

 

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Peter asks, worry present in his eyes.

 

That’s what does it for you. The feeling just pressured at the back of your throat but Peter broke the seal. You could’ve gone on pretending but the minute someone asks if you’re okay when you clearly aren’t, it’s near impossible to shove down the tears. Shaking your head, you dive into Peter’s chest, hands clutching onto the warm flannel wrapped around his arms. Peter doesn’t react right away, not sure what to do, then his instincts kick in and he tightly pulls you in closer to him. His chin drops a bit and he buries his lips in your hair, silky and more smooth than any of those girls in the hall could’ve wished to have. You catch your breath and pull away a couple inches to look him in his eyes.

 

“Sorry– I got tears all over your flannel,” you apologize, hand rubbing over the spot and his heart races at your touch but he just nods and tries to keep his cool.

 

“No, you can cry on me whenever you want,” Peter blurts out, cringing at the way his words come out but it brings a fleeting smile to your lips so he feels a sense of relief. He keeps his hands on your back and ever so slightly rubs them in small circles, holding you through the little cries still escaping your mouth.

 

“It’s just that… my friend, I guess she’s not my friend anymore actually. We got in a fight today and she’s shutting me out so she can be friends with– I don’t even know their names– but I guess they’re everything I’m not,” you explain, feeling guilty for probably boring the poor guy but he seems to encourage you to keep going with his nods every few seconds.

 

“And what’s that?”

 

“Pretty. Popular. I don’t know, nice to be around,” you scoff at the last part, because before today you thought everything was going fine in your friendship, but now apparently you weren’t enough for her anymore. Peter laughs at this and your eyes shoot up to gauge his reaction.

 

“Well no one popular ever does anything worth talking about in ten years, and I can tell you right now that you’re more than just pretty and I wish I could be around you more,” Peter confesses, shocking even himself at his truthfulness. He averts his gaze but you lean in closer, sliding your hand up to cup his cheek in your direction. His eyes shift back and forth until he takes in the way you’re looking at him— like he matters. It’s a feeling he doesn’t usually get unless he’s behind a mask, not as Peter Parker.

 

“I just feel so stupid, investing all my time into one person and now she’s just gone and I’m an idiot with no friends,” you sigh, biting back your lip so that a second round of tears don’t come pouring out. It’s Peter’s turn to cradle your chin in his hands so that your full attention is only on him for the next words out of his mouth.

 

_“I… I can be your friend.”_


	15. lookalike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based off the song "lookalike" by conan gray

**_“But when you like in his eyes, do you think of mine? And when you look at that smile, do I cross your mind?_** ”

 

It was almost sickening how much he looked like Peter. Tousled coffee-colored curls, brown eyes, big smile. It hurt enough for him when you left, being the only girl Peter ever allowed himself to truly fall in love and open himself up with. And when he heard rumors during the first week of school about how you got a new boyfriend, it finally dawned on Peter that the summer you spent together was really just a bittersweet memory. He was just a memory to you, or at least that’s what he perceived it as.

 

Peter had managed to avoid you for the first two weeks of school, hiding away in the back corner of the library during lunch so he wouldn’t have to go to the cafeteria and see you, especially not all touchy with… him. He decided to be either super early or late to class, always roaming the halls alone. It got to the point Peter was so heartbroken he couldn’t even find the time to safely communicate with his friends. You had taken everything from him, and the only thing he got in return was hearing your best friends talk about how you said that with this new guy,  _“It’s really love.”_

 

Peter buried his face in his hands, crossed over each other against the back table of the library, another lunch spent in solitude. His eyes were brimming to their edges with tears, in a constant state of puffy with faint pink tinges to them. The warmth to his sweet brown eyes drained when you broke it off, almost instantaneously. People promised him it would get better with time, but how was it supposed to get better when you used to stay up all night on the phone with Peter, murmuring “I love you” until your words became indecipherable with sleepiness? But, according to the “new” you, that wasn’t  _really_  love.

 

**_Let’s go back to the summer night. When we met eyes, it’s like a movie line, kissin’ underneath the city lights…_ **

 

You pulled up to your doorstep, pinkies still locked with Peter’s. The dull, yellow light from the flickering street lamps inconsistently illuminated his eyes, which were glued to yours, like they always were. Peter Parker oozed compassion so much that it could be hard to dig deeper underneath his main emotion. You didn’t think he was the guy to ever get angry or upset, he was perfect in that sense. No, in every sense. You loved him, and he loved you, there were no complications to what you had with him. It was almost too perfect, and sometimes it felt like you were just waiting for the foot to drop, for some big lie or secret to destroy everything you built together since the very first day of summer.

 

“Can… can I k-kiss you?” Peter stuttered, stepping a few feet closer, his hands barely skimming over your hips. He was always so gentle, treated you as if you came with a label that read “handle with care.” You looked down to your feet and nodded slowly. He reached up to cradle your chin in the palms of his hands, warm from the blood rushing through his veins. Peter’s forehead knocked against your head, while his nose awkwardly bumped into yours. You could feel his breath against your cheek as he paused, nervous to continue so you did it for him, breaking the space with your lips. His mouth latched onto yours as he leaned into the kiss and dragged a hand down to your waist to pull you into him. Peter grew more comfortable, but after a few seconds more, you broke apart from, not wanting to rush a good thing.

 

“Goodnight, Peter,” you whispered into his ear, letting go of his hand as you slipped through your door, while he watched it softly shut in front of his face. When he was sure you were gone, he started to skip back to Aunt May’s apartment, shaking a fist in the air while one of his classic smiles encompassed his entire expression.

 

He wouldn’t have smiled so bright if he knew that you weren’t going to answer his texts the next day, or the day after that, or the week after that. Until it got to the point where Peter clearly picked up on the fact that you were ignoring him, and pushed past his nerves to go back to your apartment and ask if it was all his fault, if he could fix whatever you had left with him. But you shook your head, barely opening the door farther than a couple inches.

 

“Peter, go home.”

 

His face fell apart, and it took all you had to not shut the door and run back up the stairs to get the picture out of your head. You were wrong, he could feel other emotions, he could feel upset, and it was all because of you. But it had to be this way, for his sake.

 

“But, Y/N, why?”

 

You cleared your throat, starting to close the door as you said your last words.

 

“It’s better this way, trust me.”

 

The door closed in Peter’s face. It wasn’t like the last time, there was no skipping home, no fist pumps, no smiles. Nothing.

 

**_“But now you’re laying in another guy’s arms, cause I’m all gone.”_ **

 

The day dragged on until the bell finally rang and Peter could be the one person that kept him feeling like he had a purpose: Spider-man. Even on days where there weren’t many crime attempts, whenever he had that mask on, he was a different person. He was stronger, people idolized him, looked up to him as a symbol of hope and friendliness.

 

It was when he slipped back through his window silently and collapsed on his bed, face hidden underneath the layers of blankets and pillows, that Peter let himself feel more than any other time of the day. He could hide from the pain when he had to pretend to be okay at school, or when he took on his alternate identity, but not late at night when he was just… Peter Parker.

 

_Lingering love._

 

The absolute worst. Because he knew you had moved on, that you didn’t care about Peter anymore. You found a better Peter, an upgraded version.

 

_A lookalike._

 

And he was left to deal with these emotions and these feelings that he knew you didn’t share in return. It was futile, utterly and completely pointless to care for someone who would never care in the same way. Maybe if he had closure, if you had given him a real reason, if you had told him what he had done wrong so he could do better. He couldn’t accept that you were done with him. It just didn’t make sense or feel right and that’s what made it hurt so bad.

 

Peter flung the covers off of him, leaping off the bed as he began the process of suiting up. He held the mask crinkled up in his grasp as he crawled out the window and slid it shut with the heel of his foot. Peter pulled the mask over his head and jerked his fingertips towards the adjacent building, letting go as he took a leap of faith in more ways than one.

 

***

 

You gradually awakened, a persistent tapping sound against your windowsill dragged you back into consciousness. Your bare feet sunk into the carpet as you cautiously stepped closer and peered out the window, heart stopping at the masked hero behind it. But then you remembered who it really was behind the mask, the whole reason you had to cut him off in the first place. Nevertheless, you couldn’t just ignore him now, so you slid up the glass and padded backward to make room for him to crawl through.

 

When Peter stood up in your room, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the right words. You walked up to him, slipped your fingers underneath the mask, and lifted it off of him. When his eyes were exposed, you saw the fear in them, the boy you knew.

 

“It’s…  _just me.”_

 

“I knew it was you, Peter,” you responded, his mask still in your grip. It felt wrong in your hands, and wrong for him to be standing in front of you. You were breaking the rule you made for yourself that summer night, the same night that the message was spray-painted across the walls of your room, written repeatedly on pieces of paper shoved in every spare space in your bedroom. If you squinted hard enough, you could still see the words underneath the layers of paint on your walls: “Peter Parker is not who you think he is,” and : “Leave Spider-man or I’ll slit his throat.’

 

“H-how did you know?” Peter muttered in disbelief. He hadn’t even told his best friends yet, let alone you.

 

Tears escaped your eyes and you blinked them away, quickly stepping away from him as you wiped them away with your sleeve. You couldn’t tell him about the horrible weeks of the last month of summer, how you didn’t feel safe in your own room. How you didn’t sleep, and the only thing you made sure you did was to avoid Peter at all costs. The message scrawled in red on the walls had put a vivid image in your head that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake it.

 

“Peter, please! You can’t be here, or they’ll–” you froze, annoyed you had let part of your thoughts slip out. A fire ignited in his eyes as he moved forward, hands shaking as he looked right into you.

 

“They? Y/N, who’s they?” his voice cracked, fearful of what he was pretty sure you were referring to.

 

“I don’t know… I don’t even know if it is a they or just a person, but I can’t be with you or they’ll know and–”

 

“And what?”

 

“And they’ll kill you,” you finished, unable to wipe away the tears that rushed from your eyes now.

 

Peter didn’t need you to say another thing, he was smart enough to put the rest of the pieces together and figure out what must have happened. It pissed him off more than anything that he spent all those nights moping in his room when he could’ve been doing something, anything, to ease your fears.

 

“I’m not going to die, I know what I’m doing,” he began, desperate to convince you to come back to his arms, where he could guarantee you’d be safer than with the other guy, or alone for that matter.

 

“You might not be afraid to take that risk, Peter, but I am. I couldn’t live with myself if you get hurt because of me,” you denied his attempts, repeating your commitment over and over in your mind so you wouldn’t fall back into him, no matter how badly you wanted to. Peter’s lips bent down in a frown as he looked to the ground.

 

“But you’ve been in my head every day since that night, and to be honest… I already got hurt because of you, just not in the way you thought you would do it,” Peter confessed, cheeks burning red at his raw honesty. Your hands balled up into fists at your sides, angry at yourself and at Peter for blaming you when all you wanted to do was protect him. You weren’t going back, you found someone else and he might not be Peter but he was close and that would have to do because you wouldn’t let him die.

 

“You need to leave now, and you can’t come back here. You can’t talk to me at school or anywhere, ever again. This is what’s best for you, and even though you can’t see it, I can,” you laid out the rules, crystal clear.

 

Peter couldn’t move, only stare at you with his mouth hanging open in a mix of hurt and shock.

 

“No! I’m not leaving you, not again! I won’t do it, I don’t care what you say,” Peter blurted out, clinging to his wishes even if they didn’t match up with yours. You both wanted to do whatever you could to protect one another, but the problem was that they contradicted each other.

 

“You’re not listening to me! Peter, they said they would slit your throat! Hundreds of messages, not just one, but everywhere! Texts, notes, even painted on my fucking wall. They’re serious about it, you can’t just ignore this. The best thing you can do for me and for yourself is to just… go,” you fought back, pushing into his shoulders with your hands to send him away from you. He stumbled back only a little, his eyebrows raised up in sadness, but an acceptance that you weren’t going to change your mind.

 

Peter would leave, but not like this. He ran up to you and pulled you up into his arms, lifting your feet off the ground as he spun you and crashed his lips into yours. At first, you didn’t react until you realized this could be the last time you would ever spend with him like this, so you indulged into the kiss, feeling the warmth spread from your lips to the tips of your toes. You stayed like this for what felt like the longest minute you’d ever experienced, a flashbulb memory so clear you knew you wouldn’t ever forget it or forget him. Peter sighed as he put you down and shot you one more sweet smile before escaping out the window.

 

You closed it behind him, slipping back under the covers as the cries overtook your entire body. At least he knew now, he knew you weren’t just shutting him out for no reason at all. It had to be this way.

 

When Peter crawled back into his own bed, he took in his options. Someone was after him and clearly very motivated, it made him want to just disappear and cut out the other part of his life. He could just be Peter Parker, just be normal again.

 

No, he couldn’t give up Spider-man. You gave him up so he’d have to give you up too.

 

**_Maybe it’s time to find a lookalike…_ **


	16. come out and play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~based off the song 'come out and play' by billie eilish

**_And I know it makes you nervous… don’t hide, don’t hide_ **

Peter sat at the edge of his bed, switching the empty web fluid canisters in his shooters out for new, full ones. Before he could finish, he felt his skin prickle with goosebumps and his head jerked up and to the side; just as he predicted a few seconds later a knock echoed through the empty apartment. Quickly shoving the parts of his secret identity underneath the comforter, he brushed himself off and tried to appear normal as he flung open the door.

 

“H-hey Peter,” you murmured from the hall, averting his gaze as you pushed right past him and headed for his room. He nervously followed, wanting to pull you back away from his bedroom as his mind raced through all the possible things he’d forgotten to hide away. You didn’t notice his anxiety as you plopped down on his bed, about to pull the sheets around you.

 

“No!” Peter shouted, his hands trembling, extended out in front of him. You dropped your gaze to the floor, mentally hitting yourself for not asking first. Of course, he didn’t just want you crawling into his bed without asking.

 

“I’m sorry you probably want me to go,” you assumed, pushing off the mattress, about to brush past him again. Peter clutched onto your hand and pulled you back into him, wide brown eyes settling on yours that eased every little worry.

 

“No I just meant that, that–um, we should go on the roof instead!” he blurted out the first thought that came to mind. You glanced out his tiny bedroom winter, nodding towards the snowflake-covered glass, the silence highlighting the way the wind roared and pounded against the side of the building. He flicked his eyes back and forth, his teeth sinking into his tongue to hold himself back from saying the first excuse that came to mind.

 

“W-we have blankets though!” Peter spoke, slower this time, as if he was savoring each word on the tip of his tongue, deciding if they fit together. He ran to his closet, wildly shoving hangers aside to pull out a long fleece blanket, and he tossed it over to you as he flew back to his dresser. Just as you caught it in your hands, he sped back to pull an extra one of his hoodies over the top of your head.

 

You still gripped the blanket so the sleeves hung floppily out along your sides. Trying to gain Peter’s attention, you leaned forward, shifting your weight to the tips of your toes. You peered over the pile of blankets and pillows he had piled up in your arms, but Peter had fled the room, leaving the door wide open.

 

Shuffling into the kitchen, you came out just in time to watch him mix hot chocolate powder into two steaming cups of milk. You stifled a laugh at the way his eyebrows knitted together in concentration; Peter always zoned in on one thing at a time, leading him to be oblivious to other things going on around him. But he could also shift his attention back and forth faster than a snap of the fingers.

 

“Peter…” you called and he almost tipped over the mugs to gaze up at you. He quickly realized his mistake and jogged over to you, taking the pile from your arms and setting it on the countertop. You opened your mouth to tell him you could fix the hoodie on your own but he already had begun slipping your arms through the holes for you. After he was done he patted you down, fingers lingering on your waist for a second longer than he planned. Blushing, he snapped his hands back to his chest, then bent over to pick up the blankets.

 

You followed him out the door, walking slowly to make sure not to spill any of the warm cocoa. Once you reached the top of the stairs Peter had to shove his body into the door, ice had crusted in between the cracks and made it hard to push open.

 

You set the mugs on the edge of the building and Peter slung the blankets over both of your shoulders, his sides tingling from contact with you as you huddled into him closer for warmth. The wind had died down a bit, or Peter was just taking it all for you. A tiny smile spread across your lips as you looked across the horizon, pure white sky and people shuffling down over the sidewalks in their boots and scarves to get to their destinations faster. Peter didn’t notice them though, he had turned his body to face your direction instead. To him, you’re a thousand times prettier than the view, no, you are the view.

 

“Hey, are you okay? You usually don’t come over here this early,” Peter remembered, putting the pieces together in his head as he spoke. Your lungs tightened in on themselves and you let out a sputtered cough, leading him to wrap you in tighter to his embrace.

 

“Just a bad day. I didn’t want to be alone…” you admitted, eyes dropping to your boots as you kicked around a little pile of packy snow at your feet. You reach out to grasp the mug in front of you and it warms up your bare, chilled fingertips. Peter knocks his forehead against yours, trailing his lips down to press a soft kiss to your reddened, cold cheeks. He didn’t know if it was his powers or just the act of being in your presence, but he felt warmer inside despite the cold elements that hinted at the beginnings of winter around you two.

 

“It’s okay, Y/N, you’ll never be really alone because I’m never leaving you,” Peter confesses, his palms cupping your cheeks and they burn into your skin. He was always there to be your blanket, always had his hands wrapped around you or his head pressed up against yours.

 

Jumping up, you swung an arm over his neck and crashed your pink lips into his. It caught Peter off guard but he adjusted, tipping his head to the side so that his lips fit perfectly into yours. Your kisses always reminded you of how Peter really was, gentle and sweet, and they always made your heart skip a couple beats no matter if it was the first or the thousandth kiss.

 

“Ow…”

 

You pulled apart and gaped at him in confusion, then your eyes traced his path, and you jumped off of him, looking at the hot chocolate you had spilled all over the front of his shirt. Within a couple minutes, you were kicking the snow off your boots on the mat outside his door, and you rushed into his room without telling him to grab him a fresh shirt.

 

“Wait, no!” Peter yelled out from behind you, heart stopping as he stood frozen in the doorway. You had pulled off his blankets, knowing how he always had a couple shirts strewn under the covers. Your fingertips grazed over a bottle, playing with the edges of a label and your lips moved to read it aloud.

 

“Web-fluid… Peter, why would you have this?” you asked, eyes still glued to the mysterious liquid. He hung his head, disappointed in himself for not being able to keep a secret on his own.

 

“Because I’m— Spider-man.”

 

The bottle slipped from your fingers, landing on the carpet with a thud and it rolled a couple feet towards him.

 

“You—you’re what!?” you echoed in disbelief. There was no way, you would have known or picked up on something this huge in your boyfriend’s life.

 

“Yeah this is the, um— the Stark internship,” he breathed out, bending down to pick up the bottle and set it on his desk. His fingers gripped the sides and his back was turned away from you, so you stepped closer to him, wrapping your hands around his waist from behind. You slipped your head into the crook of his neck and your lips met his chin, a soothing kiss that made his shoulders droop down in response.

 

“Peter, you could’ve told me… I really hope you trust me to keep this a secret with you,” you struggled to find the right words. He flipped around at your words and his eyes lit up in excitement.

 

“Of course I trust you! I just thought if you knew… I don’t know, that this wouldn’t be the same,” Peter admitted. You slipped your hands in his and dragged him to lay down beside you on the mattress. You ran your fingers through his messed up curls and scooted closer to him so that there wasn’t more than a few inches separating you from him. Your eyelids started to droop down to your cheeks, the waves of sleepiness crashing over you as you rested your head against his chest.

 

“It’ll still be the same, you wanna know how I know that?” you drawled out, the tiredness evident in your tone but you were determined to finish the conversation before you drifted off with his hands wrapped around you.

 

“H-how?” Peter shakily stuttered, and you could feel his heart beating out of control underneath you.

 

“Because I love you, Peter Parker.”

 

_**But I promise you it’s worth it, to show ‘em everything you kept inside. Don’t hide away, come out and play.** _


	17. why i love you

why i love you

 

Peter could sense your poor mood with little effort, it was palpable enough already, and living together only heightened his abilities at deciphering your movements. It was in the way you set down your mug with a bit too much force, causing splashes of coffee to spill down the sides and onto the countertop. And it was in the way your feet collided with the kitchen tiles heavily, when your footsteps were typically light and fluid, like a dance. So, when Peter approached you, it was a gradual process: he was the deer and you were an outsider he wasn’t sure if he should move towards or bolt away from in the opposite direction. 

 

You were well aware Peter was peeking behind the corner at you, so you tried to steady your breathing and calm down a bit so he’d come out and talk to you. Closing your eyes, you let the perfectly warm coffee slip through your lips and take away some of the stress. Peter finally made his move, his bare feet almost silently padding across the floor to stand beside you. Shooting him a fake smile, you tried to brush past him to collapse onto the couch instead, but Peter caught your free hand in his. 

 

His fingers smoothed over the back of your hand, drawing in all the attention you had to offer, which was all of it. Peter turned your hand in single, swift movement so that your palm faced the ceiling, his fingertips grazing over the lines of your palm that resembled tree roots as they extended themselves throughout the inside of your hand. He paused, anticipation flowing through you at the point, and pressed his thumb right in the center of your palm, the pure pressure caused you to instinctively squeeze his hand in yours. Peter was the master of this, of reading you and knowing just how to help without speaking a word. 

 

His forehead leaned in until it balanced on yours, his lips finding your cheek to kiss. Peter moved his mouth ever so slowly, the words muffled out against your cheek, but you didn’t need to hear them to know what he was saying. You felt his lips, the way the drew back only to pucker up again--three words precisely-- “i love you.” That normally would make you blush, melt into him, and fall just a bit deeper in love. But the mood hadn’t dissipated yet, and the negative vibes resurfaced before you could stop yourself from snapping back in return.

 

_ “Why?” _

 

Peter pulled back, shock present on his face in the way his eyebrows knit together and bottom lip sucked into his mouth on an intake of a sharp breath. 

 

“W-what?”

 

“Well you always tell me that, and I always tell you that. But do you really know why? Or has it just become a thing we say to each other, a thing that’s supposed to mean something, but we don’t even know what it means because we never stopped to ask the question: why? Why do you love me, Peter?” you expanded upon the three-letter word, bringing hostility to the normally passive question that didn’t require an elaborate response. But this one did; this time you needed something more to ease the parts of you that couldn’t accept love in its simplest of forms. You complicated things that didn’t need to be complicated--maybe as a defense mechanism, maybe to tear apart something beautiful before he had a chance to break it himself. 

 

Peter didn’t speak, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, lips tightly sealed--maybe his own form of a defense mechanism. If he just didn’t answer at all, he wouldn’t risk saying the wrong things. But, to you, saying nothing was worse than that. 

 

“Okay, I’ll answer then. I love you because you have every reason to be proud and arrogant, not just the hero in you but the Peter in you, the genius in you. But you’re not, you’re more humble than I am and I’m not even half as special or important as you are. I love you because you try everything at least once, but don’t stop until you perfect it because you get roped into things too easily. I love how you talk too fast and trip over your words and then remind yourself to take a breath and start over. And those are just the little things, which I know because I know you. Because we were best friends first and I decided that I loved all the little things and the word ‘friend’ didn’t accurately describe how intense my feelings are for you. So yeah, Peter, I know why I love you, and I could go on for hours. The fact that you’re standing in front of me at a loss for words is fucking disappointing, and I know I’m being an asshole right now but I want a boyfriend who doesn’t have to think twice about what I mean, what we mean,” you delved into a raw explanation, saying the first things that come to your mind and hoping they won’t cause any collateral damage. 

 

Peter’s gaze drifted to the floor, your grip loose enough for him to pull his hand out of yours and slip it uncomfortably into the front pocket of his jeans. You gave him a few more seconds, then a few more, until a full minute of not a damn response passed. Sighing in frustration, you brushed past his shoulder and stormed off into your shared room. Impulsively, you tossed out a blanket and his pillow into the hall, slamming the door shut so that the sound and the vibrations that followed reverberated throughout the apartment. He could sleep on the couch, on the floor, but not in bed next to you. 

 

Maybe it was too soon to say those things to Peter. His lack of an answer proved everything, it brought validation to every dim worry in the back of your mind that insisted love was for fools and preyed on vulnerability. But if he wasn’t saying anything, not telling you why he loved you, it had to be because he had  _ nothing to say. _

 

_ *** _

 

The next morning, you awoke with the same clenching feeling in your gut, from unresolved issues that brought empty dreams and tinted everything in your vision a dull gray. But you still rolled out of bed, pulling nervously on the wrinkled edges of your long sleeves as you rubbed your eyes and quietly opened up the bedroom door. 

 

Peter was pacing nervously as well, back turned towards you but he spun around on his heels at the sound of your footsteps. He practically sprawled across the counter, pushing forward a plate of steaming waffles and a mug of coffee towards you. As you got closer, you saw red tinges in his brown eyes, accentuated by dark crescents underneath his eyes, his signature look when he pulled all-nighters studying with you on the bedroom floor. Curls sprung out in all directions, thick with grease and only making Peter look that much more stressed than he already was. 

 

You hopped up onto the stool and not even a second later Peter launches into the beginnings of a rant. 

 

“I do mean it, okay! Just--just because I can’t list a thousand reasons off the top of my head doesn’t mean I don’t know why! It’s when you put me on the spot like that-- my hands get clammy and I can’t think and I just stand there all frozen and it sucks. And then I realize that I look like a jerk that can’t even list one reason why I’m so in love with you and that makes me even more nervous. I’m not like you in that way, I need to really think about a question like that. Because the answers are somewhere, they’re mixed up in my thoughts and memories and my actions and I just need time to pull them out. I haven’t slept in over 24 hours but I know now okay?” Peter flushed at the admittance of the last part, a fact he planned on not telling you but now it was out in the open. 

 

“Look, Peter, I’m sorry about yesterd--”

 

“No! Shut up and eat your waffles, you’re gonna mess this up and I just gotta say this!” Peter commands and you for once just nodded and shoved a forkful of waffles into your mouth and took a slurp of coffee. 

 

“Of course I love the little things but I think for me, it’s how you’re with me even when you’re not with me. When I’m out, the most random things trigger thoughts of you, to the point where I can see anything and find some way to connect it back to you. Like, I was in Multivariable Calculus and taking my final and there was just the number 4, and I remembered how--whether you realize it or not--you always have four cups of coffee a day. Not always at the same time or at the same places, but it’s just a thing I’ve noticed. And I didn’t know why I noticed when I was taking the test, but now I know. It’s because you’re always in my head, you’re in everything that I do and every place that I go without even trying,” Peter took a breath, relieved at the way he articulated his thoughts, not half as bad as he imagined. You waited a little longer, not sure if he was finished. 

 

_ “That’s why I love you.” _

 

You dropped the fork against the plate, leaping up to wrap Peter in your arms before the silverware clattered on the edge. You prided yourself on never crying, never getting too sappy or too emotional, always laughing at couples that called each other “babe” and couldn’t keep their hands off each other for more than five seconds apart. But maybe sometimes it was okay to show affection. 

 

Maybe sometimes it’s okay to ask “why?”


	18. crush culture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by "crush culture" by conan gray :)

**_*I don’t care if I’m forever alone, I’m not falling for you, cause this baby is loveproof*_ **

Love fucking sucks.

Especially if your best friend is Liz Allan, who can just casually sit at the lunch table, scroll aimlessly through her hundreds of messages and not even put in an ounce of effort to get the guy. Or girl; whoever she wants, she can simply flash them a closed-lip smile and she has them. You can usually cope well with the bitter emotions churning inside of you, but your bottled-up feelings always come close to exploding whenever Valentine’s Day is approaching.

“Did he snap you back yet?” Liz asks while taking a casual selfie that’s still flawless. You force your eyes to stay wide and not succumb into the desire to scrunch them up in a passive-aggressive glare. Nevertheless, a twinge of hope resurfaces in your eyes as you tap the phone screen.

No new notifications.

Your fingers strain as they desperately fumble with the volume buttons, because maybe he answered but you just didn’t hear it. Liz flicks you a sad smile, immediately going back to her screen as your shoulders deflate like a forgotten helium balloon discarded in the aftermath of a party. Whatever, though. Love is stupid, you don’t need it or want it. Kinda makes you cool, maybe you’re just too cool for love. Bulletproof.  _Loveproof._

**_*I don’t care what you’re sayin’, I don’t wanna participate in your game of manipulation.*_ **

Peter peeks from around the corner, watching as your face falls after checking your phone for probably the hundredth time in ten seconds. For some reason, it gives him more courage. Like you’re putting every last bit of strength left in you towards denying love, that once he confesses how he feels, you’ll fall as hard as he did for you months ago, for him. The thought feels too good to be true, and soon enough, Peter’s rubbing the palms of his hands against his jeans and his vision’s cracking like an old TV screen. He looks down at the envelope, sealed shut with a cheap red heart sticker, and feels wave after wave of regret.

Shoving the letter deep into his back pocket, Peter settles for a simple conversation instead and turns the corner. Keeping his head down, he almost runs right into Liz and jerks his chin up only to lose sight of where you went.

“Uh, hey Liz, do you know where–”

“Why? Are you finally gonna tell y/n how you feel?” she responds before he can finish his sentence, dark eyebrows raised at Peter as she tucks a wavy black strand of hair behind her ear.

“How I–what–I don’t… You knew?” Peter struggles to find the right words.

“The real question is how y/n doesn’t know yet. But that’s perfect, go do it now!” Liz pushes Peter forward but his feet plant into the floor and legs refuse to budge.

“Do what? I don’t know what you’re even talking about,” Peter weakly attempts to lie and receives an eye roll. Liz snakes her arm across Peter and swiftly pulls out the envelope from his back pocket, waving it in front of his horrified eyes. He snatches it from her fingers, cheeks turning as red as the sticker holding down the flap of the envelope in place.

“Fine! Just, back off, okay? I’ll do it, it just needs to be at the right moment…” Peter concludes, nervously toying with the edges of the letter.

“Maybe now isn’t the best time… look–” Liz nudges his shoulder, shakily lifting a finger towards your direction, cringing alongside with Peter at the scene.

***

The phone falls out of your grasp, hands trembling, but Liz doesn’t notice. Doesn’t notice that your crush finally answered, with all of the wrong words.

You’re friends with Liz Allan right? Do you know if she’s dating anybody?

Maybe the decent thing to do would be to answer, but you’re well past that now. Looking up at the courtyard, scanning groups of people, you notice one painful fact: everyone is coupled up. Holding hands, leaning across tables, lips bending upward or pressed against another’s. What’s even worse: heart-shaped balloons and boxes of chocolates, pieces of papers in shades of pink and red, giant teddy bears, bundles of roses and camellias, even a guy with a guitar settled in his lap. To you, it doesn’t feel heart-warming or romantic or like love is in the air; it feels sickening.

Leaping out of your chair, Liz just crosses her legs and smiles down at her phone, and your hands clench into fists at the lack of care from her. Nobody cares about friendships anymore, this disgusting holiday isn’t for the loveless, and you need to take action. Take the day back, reclaim it and wipe out all the meaningless gifts and empty gestures.

If you can’t have your crush, then no one can.

The first couple you see are your first victims, and they see nothing coming as you snatch the gigantic box of chocolates from his arms before she can stop fake crying and accept the damn gift. Their expressions contort first into confusion, then horror as you toss the box to the ground, scattering cute-shaped candy across the ground. But it doesn’t feel like enough, and you stomp on top of the chocolate, smashing them to pieces and leaving sugary smears across the pavement.

“Hey!”

But you’re already fleeing the scene, on a roll as you pick out your next set of victims from the busy crowds; the best ones are those who don’t suspect you. You choose a girl twirling in a pink dress from side to side next to a boy. Countless strings shoot up from her wrist, tied around red heart balloons, enough to the point where it surprises you that she’s not floating away already. You take a step closer, when something holds you back, more like someone.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Peter Parker’s voice raises to high-pitched levels you didn’t know he was capable of, his hand tightly wrapped around your wrist to keep you back.

“I’m… I’m taking a stand!” you snap back, stepping forward again but Peter tugs on your arm, pulling you almost too close into him. He tries to bite back an amused smile, but he can’t hide the laughter that warms his brown eyes. But all you can think about is how his eyes are the same shade as chocolate, and instead of making you melt, it reignites the fire that’s been building up in you for too long.

“Against what?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Peter? Against this–this stupid… crush culture!” you finally settle on the perfect way to describe the horrific holiday and lovesick society that revolves around the worst day of the year.

“What do you mean? You don’t think it’s, I don’t know, kinda sweet?”

Peter regrets the words as soon as they leave his lips at the way the temperature in your skin rises and cheeks flush red with frustration.

“Sweet? Are you fucking joking? This isn’t sweet! Actually– it is sweet. The kind of overpowering sweet where you eat way too much candy and it ruins a good thing. So sweet that it’s not sweet anymore and you just wanna spill your guts out,” you practically spit the words out, then lips press together in a tight line. The letter he wrote for you burns in his pocket at your explanation, but he sees through your act, senses picking up on your true feelings. Behind all the anger is disappointment, and if he could do anything for you, it’d be to make sure you’d never have to feel that way again. Peter wishes that for once nice people would fall for people that are right for them rather than chasing after assholes who play with their feelings and breadcrumb them when they start to slip away. Just once.

Peter doesn’t respond, knowing you aren’t going to listen to what he has to say in this state, but he doesn’t loosen his grip either.

“Just let me go, Peter!” you hiss, head turning to check on the couple; his fingernails dig into your wrist the more you try and pull away.

“Why, so you can ruin their happiness just because you’re sad?” Peter’s other hand flies to his mouth, clamping over his lips but it’s too late, you heard it and he can’t take it back. “I–I didn’t mean it that way! I just noticed that you–”

“Noticed what?” you cut in, eyes drilling into his, adding nervous energy on top of the usual amount that’s present whenever you’re around him.

“That– the person you like doesn’t like you back, but that’s not the point…” he drifts off, not sure how to finish the sentence without offending you.

“THEY LIKE ME BACK THEY JUST DON’T REALIZE IT!” you scream, clawing away at his hold on you, attracting questioning stares from students nearby.

“Okay, okay, calm down! They might… but wouldn’t you want to be with somebody that already knows they’re in lo– that they really like you?” Peter tries to soften the blow, speaking slowly and carefully as to not tread on your fragile emotions. His hand goes to your cheek, barely grazing over the skin, and he wonders if you feel the same connection he does. He really believes that if you love someone so passionately, there’s no way that love cannot be reciprocated. The world can’t be that cruel.

“Yeah, Peter, anybody would love that. But there’s one flaw in your reasoning: nobody really likes me, so let go of my wrist so that I can ruin their happiness because if I can’t be happy then nobody can!” you scoff, slapping his hand away from your face and his smile falters. Peter gives in, nodding like a dejected puppy, releasing his hand in response to your fierce demands. You take one last look at him and march away towards the balloon-couple, leaving him in your dust.

Maybe the world is that cruel; maybe everyone is too wrapped up in crush culture. Always wanting what you can’t have, hands never fitting within the hands of those you desperately need to call yours. It’s enough to drive people crazy, enough for even Peter to want to spill his guts out. Peter watches you for at least another minute, wildly popping balloons while the girl you took them from starts to cry into her boyfriend’s arms. But he knows the sadness behind your motives will never match what he feels as he turns around and walks away, after tossing the letter written for you right into the trash can.

_**Oh no, don’t look in their eyes, ‘cause that’s how they get you…** _

Liz taps her foot against the pavement, waiting for Peter to walk away so she can pick up the envelope from the trash. She’s not about to let you throw away true love out of blind rage, and wouldn’t let Peter give up before revealing his feelings for you.

***

The next day, Peter tried to get Aunt May to let him stay home from school, but she pushed him out the door with shouts of motivational phrases, reminding him to not forget his backpack, (again). He gets to school late, accepting the fact as he slowly drudges along towards his locker.

You lean hopelessly against Peter’s locker, convinced you messed up all the chances you didn’t even realize you wanted to take until after you read his letter. You even pulled out all the stops, in a way replacing what you had broken yesterday, getting Peter the biggest box of chocolate you could find, as many balloons that you could carry, and a posterboard you now kept pressed against your chest. Standing upright, you leave everything in front of his locker and start to flee the scene, again.

“Y/N?”

You freeze at the familiar voice calling your name, and turn to see Peter cautiously approaching. His eyebrows wrinkle up in what you assume is confusion, but soon realize is anger.

“Is this a joke to you?” Peter snaps, crossing his arms across his chest. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, for the first time in a while you feel completely speechless. Instead, you flip around the poster for him to read it, his jaw dropping to the floor at the words scrawled across it.

**Crush culture makes me wanna spill my guts out, but will you be my valentine Peter Parker?**

You shoot him a fearful smile, laced with underlying hope. Peter bites down on his bottom lip and meets your gaze.

“No.”

Your smile deteriorates. There’s no way, you read that letter, and it was so full of… feelings. Did you really fuck up that bad for him to throw that all away? Maybe he left you in the trash with the letter.

“Oh… okay, sorry–”

You turn away before he can catch you crying, and you try and tell yourself that it’ll be okay. That his love was just so suffocating, and you’re still strong. Still loveproof.

Peter runs up from behind you, hands skimming over your waist as he flips you around, shock written across your face at the sudden change in his demeanor.

“I was just kidding. Of course, I’ll be your valentine,” Peter whispers into your ear, then plants a soft kiss on your forehead and you feel the warmth rise off his cheeks. Or maybe it’s from your own skin, but it doesn’t matter: he said yes.

“I’m in lo– really like you, Peter.”

And just like that, you don’t want to be sad and lonely anymore.

_crush_


End file.
